dandelion puffs
balloon wishes to the sky
breeze blows hope for life
Nature
Mountain Haiku
earth sheds detritus
clutter clutched in melting snow –
rivers cascade spring
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets from across the globe where today, Paul is tending bar and asks us to write about rivers. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come river dance with us!
Iowa Winter Scene
Cornstalk remnant icy spikes
pierce snow crusted land.
Rare snowy owl, alert
watches for prey.
Written for day 15 of Holly Wren Spaulding’s online 21-day Vernal Equinox course. A four line poem that includes snow.
Forest Room
moss, lichen and fiddle ferns
padded damp silent floor
cool moisture clings
leaves shiver in residual rain
stubborn clouds persist
dawn struggles to lift the shade
Post written in response to Day 12 of 21 day challenge online course led by Holly Wren Spaulding. Write about a room.
Dawning
Sun struggles behind shrouded sky.
Three rays burst through darkness,
beacons that proclaim
there shall be hope this day.
Photo taken at dawn from deck of our rented apartment in Bermuda. No filters – no photoshopping. It was truly glorious.
Sea Glass Beatitude
Shards tumbled, churned.
Misshapened shapes
amber, green, clear.
Once broken, glint in sun
smoothed by roiling seas.
Are these but reminders
of those who washed ashore?
See me. Know me.
Value lies
in that which is made anew.
Bermuda sea glass. Bermuda was originally an uninhabited island. All Bermudians are either immigrants or descendants of immigrants. There are no indigenous peoples.
Flight
Surrounding reality melts as I seek the comfort of sleep. In that half-aura, lying with eyes closed, weight of quilt on chest, I work to release tense shoulders, facial muscles. Within my mind’s eye, weightless arms rise, outstretched. I float above my body, cares released, and soar into the night.
heron, tense, alert
dives hungry into dark sea
soars with silver fish
Björn hosts haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Photo credit: Bird Sirin by artist Sergey Solomko. We’re asked today to find artwork that does not illustrate our haibun, rather compliments its meaning. Haibun: short prose, not fiction, followed by haiku. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
Haibun Delight
I sit waiting. Orchestral music building. Gilded theatrical surroundings. Audience hushed. Clara, in white flimsy floating gown, on pointe. Drosselmeyer’s back to us. His arms outstretched dramatically. I know what is coming. The audience knows what is coming. And yet we gasp as the tree begins to increase in size, taller and taller. And our applause grows louder and louder and spirits soar higher and higher.
darkness waits for dawn
sliver grows to orb of light
always gifts the morn
Today we have a surprise guest host at dVerse. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time for haibun Monday. A haibun is prose, which cannot be fiction, followed by a haiku. My prose refers to that most magical scene in the Nutcracker when the Christmas tree grows before our eyes. Photo: best sunrise photo I’ve ever taken in Provincetown!
Snow Visions
i.
Thunder snow
rare glimpse of winter anger
snow angels disappear in gales.
ii.
Softly swirling snow
heaven’s hushed lullaby
midst city streets and sounds.
iii.
She stands by her window
wrapped in color splashed comforter.
Forehead on cool pane, eyes closed,
her thoughts begin to drift
like falling snow on once green mounds.
Photo: From our window…looking out on Boston as snow piles up on ground, trees and window sill.
this early morn
outside my window
snow falls silently
large delicate flakes
slow motion cascading white
lillian the home poet 