Winds whirl as clouds build
heavens thunder, upset calm.
Ominous sky shifts like easel askew,
pearlescent clouds turn darkest grey.
Ocean current races toward home,
whitecaps crashing shore.
Nearby, daisies’ ruffled petals
duck and dance to nature’s roar.
Sole large succulent leans in, thrilled.
Meets nature’s tantrum with aplomb.
Its tall spike-stems ignore the ballyhoo,
resolute, they refuse to sway.
I stand on cliff, sprayed by foam,
wait for rain, weather’s soaking encore.
It never comes and so with mettle
I hike further up the coast I adore.
Written for day 8 of National Poetry Month. Responding to a Toads prompt to write an L’Arora, a poetry form developed by Laura Lamarca. It is an 8-lined stanza with the following rhyme scheme: a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f. The poem is usually a minimum of 4 stanzas, but for Toads, 2 are allowed.
Poem motivated by photo from our La Jolla coastal walk about a month ago. Now we are back in chilly Boston!
I savor La Jolla’s coast.
Feeding delight near the cove
time to frolic in rushing waves,
flipper scoot on to sand.
I snort my derision
at gawking beings.
But the best, oh the best . . .
sun drenched rocks.
Lying close, just resting.
Crowds be damned.
Written for day 6, national poetry month. Combines prompts from Toads to write in the voice of another (can be an animal) and the dVerse Monday quadrille word-prompt, “close”. A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Prompt word muse be used in body of the poem.
Photo taken last month at what is called the Children’s Pool in La Jolla, California. Originally designated as a sheltered sandy beach for children to swim, it has been taken over by seals. Many people walk the coast line to watch the seals there, and on nearby rocks.
Tell me a story, magical and gentle,
like Shasta daisy petals
dancing in soft winds.
Lullaby me through foamy seas.
Envelop me in undulating waves.
Stir my imagination
beyond daily doldrums.
Guide me into Neverland
on etheral dream wings,
soaring beneath sand encrusted lids.
Quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where De asks us to use the word “stir” within the body of our poem.
Photo taken on La Jolla, CA coastal walk last week. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Feline lies on ledge
Basks in sun
seemingly thoughtful –
quickly clicks and closes.
Image frozen in time.
Unaware or insolent,
she doesn’t appear to care.
Languidly cleaning her paws,
she stops to stare through me.
Stretches, slowly unfolds to stand,
silently slinks away
with one swish of her tail.
for a moment in time.
Photo taken yesterday on the deck of our rental apartment in San Diego. She wandered in and wandered out. Paid no attention to me. Will we see her again? No idea. Cats are such interesting creatures.
Luscious dimpled red,
capped by emerald-leafed crowns.
Thumb and forefinger
slowly bring to mouth.
Yearning at first sight
turns to absolute delight.
brings smile divine.
Nectar-trickle escapes lips
stains white linen,
evidence of fulfilled lust
Fulfilled hides the prompt word fill.
Photo taken as we brought these amazing strawberries home from the Hillcrest Farmers Market in San Diego. Poem written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today De asks us to include the word, or a form of the word, “fill” in our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
The small San Diego garden plot lies waiting. Remains stripped bare from summer past. Green straggling leggy vines meander over and under blunt-cut branches of a now anonymous plant. Dried tall corn stalks stand in leaning stance, blown by winds or simply bent from lack of care once the cobs were picked.
Long woody stems are capped by dry flower tops, their name a mystery to me. Brown scaled outer shell still holds tight to popped open pods. Each pod is perhaps six inches across and contains what looks like spiderweb short wisps of silken threads. I am smitten by these long-past-their-prime blooms and try to capture their beauty in photos – some in monotone black and white, others in their natural earth like tones. I am sad to know these plants, beautiful in their drying state, will soon be cleared as new seed is sown.
transports dried seed in plumage
beauty travels far
Photos taken Saturday, on a walk through the beautiful campus of San Diego State University. We came upon a small garden plot by the art buildings. It was obviously left untended until spring, when it will be cleared and replanted.
Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Frank asks us to write about the coming spring. Haibun: two or three tight paragraphs of prose (must be true) followed by a haiku that invokes a season.
In the wee morning hours
snow falls softly
blankets trees and fields,
No paw prints
Pristine countryside at rest.
Its lone splash of color,
one crimson cardinal
on quivering branch.
Dawn arrives slowly
steeps through clouds,
glisten shimmers hill tops
adding magic to the scene.
Photo from Pixabay.com
There is beauty in ash
as embers glow brightly.
Once sapling, resilient to touch,
life juices now almost gone.
Last moist quiet hiss
escapes crumbling sinews
as ashes join earth.
Glowing flecks break free
catch wind, flicker and float.
in darkening sky.
Posting to dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today I’m hosting the final Quadrille Monday of 2019. Quadrille: poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I’ve chosen the word “glow” as the Quadrille prompt. Folks must use the word “glow” or a form of the word within the body of their poem. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on by!
naked tree’s lone leaf
shiver-blows in winter wind –
We hiked across lava fields
steam rising in the distance.
Kilahuea, birthing new shoreline,
slowly spilling into the sea.
Lagoon House was our delight
on beautiful Kapoho Beach.
Delerious with plumeria’s scent,
we swam wth sea turtles oh so close,
in nearby Champagne Pond.
No longer content with shoreline,
Kilahuea’s temper rose.
Eruptions spewed farther, fiercer,
gave birth to graveyards deep.
Solidified lava, fifty-feet thick,
buried that beloved place.
Homes gone. Plumeria gone.
Pele, Kapoho’s sole resident,
silent in her new abode.
Photos from our stay at the Lagoon House in 2001. That’s me floating/snorkeling in Champagne pond, just beyond the house. We really did swim with the sea turtles there. And we took our children and their spouses on a lava walk tour — obviously Kilahuea was very tame then – although it was HOT and hissing and the hardened lava was very sharp.
Kilahuea’s angry eruption in 2018 and the result today. The beautiful home we stayed in, and that entire area, is now covered by fifty-feet of lava. The last photo is a rendering of Pele, the goddess of volcanoes.
Thank you Amaya for our dVerse Tuesday Poetics prompt — to address “birthing” in some way.