Nature

‘Tis True, Mr. Wordsworth

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Daffodils interrupt doldrums
break through badgering news.
They brighten my day,
my thoughts, my views.

They do indeed flutter and dance,
providing a joyful scene.
They grace the banks of the Charles,
greet me with bright ruffled faces.

They are sunshine
atop green leafy stems.
How can I be lonely
as they smile at me?

NAPOWRIMO Day 17. Prompt: Write a poem in which you respond to a favorite poem by another poet. My poem is in response to William Wordsworth’s famous poem, I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud. See below for his complete poem.

Photos taken two days ago on my walk along the Charles River, from the Boston side. (Cambridge, Harvard and MIT are on the other side).

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

The Message of Sunrise

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There is a calming
an acute listening
as I sit enveloped in darkness
waiting, watching.

Darkness dissipates.
Low-lying orange-red layer
ombres into blue-black sky.
Then . . .

. . . ever so slowly . . .
a sliver . . . an arc . . .
an entire glowing orb.
Nature’s metaphorical reminder.

Even in the darkness
hope does rise
and become
reality.


NAPOWRIMO Day 16. Prompt: write a poem in which you describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught you or told you.

Images are photos I’ve taken over the years at our beloved Provincetown at the very tip of Cape Cod. Same rental, on the ocean, for 25 years. Sunrises from the deck never disappoint.

Sunflower Tanka

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I stand tall and proud.
Yellow petals round my face
mirror my namesake.
I sway in summer breezes,
turning always to the sun.


NAPOWRIMO, Day 9. Prompt is to write a poem in the voice of an animal or plant. Photo taken some years ago in Provincetown, on the very tip of Cape Cod.

Tanka: a Japanese poetic form with 5 lines in the following syllabic pattern: 5-7-5-7-7. Some say it’s a Haiku that has more to say!

She’s a Seductress

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Mother Nature’s flirtatious ways.
Lightning flashes, crocus buds,
lilac blooms that scent the air.
Dew droplets on pink rose petals,
fall colors as she bares her leaves.
A silent caress of soft falling snow.

Most audacious of her alluring ways?
Her cunningly sly, seductive wink.
Unlike a camera aperture’s click,
more like a Texan gal’s slow drawl.
Her alluring, magnetically titillating
total eclipse of the sun.


NAPOWRIMO Day 4. April is National Poetry Writing Month!

Prompt for today: “Craft your own short poem that involves a weather phenomenon and some aspect of the season. Try using rhyme and keeping your lines of roughly even length.” Sorry folks: I don’t do rhyme. But I did write about a weather phenomenon: a total eclipse of the sun.

Photo of lilacs taken some years ago at Harvard University’s Arnold Arboretum on their annual Lilac Sunday.

Nature’s Way

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Dew drops on petals.
Nature’s evidence of rain
or her sweet soft tears
singing Cry Me a River
for humanity’s deaf ear?


Written for NAPOWRIMO (National Poetry Month) day 1’s prompt. We’re to write a Tanka: an ancient Japanese poetic form composed of five lines with the syllable content as follows: 5/7/5/7/7. “It’s like a haiku that decided to keep on going!”

Photo taken last month in San Diego. “Cry Me a River” is an American song first published in 1953 and made famous in 1955 when recorded and sung by Julie London. Justin Timberlake’s 2002 hit “Cry Me a River” is not at all musically similar. London’s version is known as a torch song….listen below!

Hushed Stillness Resounds

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Moonlight shimmers softly.
Snowfall recently ceased, shrouds trees,
covers small town’s street.
Traffic absent save one car’s tell-tale tracks.
Owner, probably settled in reading,
nods off by flickering fire.
Lone man savors silence walking slowly.
Two dogs on extended leash,
content with no distractions
pause only to sniff the cold.
Winter’s quiet stillness reverberates
in late hours of this night.


I’m hosting OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Open Link Night means writers can post any one poem of their choice: no required format, rhyme scheme, topic or length OR they can write to the optional prompt I’ve given. The optional prompt? To write a poem motivated by the painting above, entitled Hushed And Still by artist Simie Maryles. The scene is representative of Provincetown, MA on the very tip of Cape Cod.

To learn more about Simie Maryles and see more of her paintings go to https://simiemaryles.com/artist/simie-maryles NOTE: writers only have permission to use Hushed and Still for their poetry.

The Sun

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It always rises.
In rain or snow,
whether you see it or not.
Hiding behind clouds,
invisible under a putty grey sky.
It’s there
blessing the new day.
Its rays smiling upon you,
gifting hope
even on the stormiest days.
If only we believe.

It’s quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, De asks us to include the word “smile” or a form of the word, in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Photo by Anandu Vinod on Unsplash

Seasonal Reflections

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In the waning days of autumn
nature sheds its hilarity.
Crimson red, halloween orange,
and golden yellow leaves shrivel,
lose their vim and fall.
Farmers’ fields, stripped of crops
seem eeirly clold and barren.

I seek warmth, light and respite.
Candles lit, afghan wrapped,
mulled wine and book at hand,
I hibernate.
I am, afterall, a creature of nature.
Slowed by age
and sensitive to seasonal biorhythms.

Shared with dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.

Metaphorically Speaking

lillian3 Comments

You should have known,
pumpkins do rot.

Center stage, porch light blazing,
oohed and aahed at by passersby.
Bright eyes lit from within.
But candle burns, continually drips.
Insides shrivel, eyes begin to droop.
Carved in grin begins to sneer.

Inevitably the brouhaha ends
crowds thin, candle burns out.
Orange flesh sags, collapses from within.
Maggots begin to appear.
You should have known,
pumpkins do rot.



Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is OLN (Open Link Night) at dVerse so we can post any one poem of our choosing. No required topic, form or length.