Nature

Nature’s Blessings

lillian4 Comments

Mid night rains nurture
palmetto and loquat trees,
pinball through ridges
on Bermudian white roofs,
then steep in afternoon tea.

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Tanka verse form: 5 lines of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. Photos and explanation: Fruit of the loquat tree in Bermuda – ripe when very yellow. Bermuda has no rivers or lakes or island-wide plumbed water supply. Each household must collect and store rainwater. Roofs are treated and always white with ridges that take rain water to each home’s underground water tank. A household that runs out of fresh water must pay to have a company “top off” their tank. And yes, the water is absolutely safe to drink – I do it every day! Photo is taken from hill overlooking St. George’s – the town we are staying in for 2 months. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, founded in 1612, and a British overseas territory, hence the reference to steeping tea. The Kiskadee is a beautiful yellow bird found in Bermuda.

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Sea Glass: Formed by Haiku and Tanka

lillian50 Comments

I
Swallowed by the sea
broken in anger, sharp words
shards of glass now smooth.

II
Shades of green, amber,
some clear. Smooth, mysterious
bits of tumbled glass.
Whose hands held you to their lips?
Touched where? A long time ago.

III
So reluctantly
she gave them up to the sands
sea memories in glass.

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Photos from our walk yesterday to the area outside of St. George’s, Bermuda called Tobacco Bay. Beautiful day to collect sea glass!  Post linked to dVerse Poet’s Pub for Open Link Night. A great virtual gathering place for poets.

Ebb and Flow

lillian47 Comments

Life is a path between the stars.
Tantrums at two were not my youth,
long before those days
cicadas nested in cedar trees.

Old age will not be defined
by creaking limbs and bleached bones.
I will float with abandon,
as myriad shades of liquid blue.

I shall become the ocean wide
waves crashing upon the rocks
seeping in and out,
among the sands of time.

The lunar tug shall continue me
and my waters shall lap the earth.

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Abhra hosts dVerse Poets’ Pub, Tuesday Poetics and asks us to answer the question, what would you like to be reborn as or return as?
Photos: from Bermuda, myriad shades of blue!
Interesting fact: cicadas were dependant on Bermuda Cedar trees for their survival, and when the cedar forests died in the 1940s, the cicadas began to quickly disappear. They are now extinct.

Orchard’s Plight

lillian44 Comments

Branches droop, shiny red and ready.
Apples ignored too long, skin once taut
now caved in, ooze on ground below.
Sweet, rot-alicious smell draws gnats
as fruit flies swarm over boot slick ground.
Orchard sulks as farmer tends to corn.

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Written for dVerse Poets’ Pub. The bar is tended by Victoria Slotto today and she urges us to write a poem in the style of Imagism….”the words are pure description.”  Photo Credit: Petra Winkler.

Ancient Grounds

lillian36 Comments

I am the serpent
undulating, smooth mounded earth.
I meander your secrets,
fossilized creatures and bones
soils of thousands before you.
My head and tail mark each solstice
beginning and end, light within me,
but I do not cease in either place.
My spirit continues as grasses
a wave of wind in ancient song.
See me and then seek others,
mounds of shapes for ancient eyes.
Yours too can see my living rest,
effigies and raised birds in earth.
Share my calm. Join my native prayer
and let me be.

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Serpent Mound in Ohio. According to Gloria Steinem’s My Life on the Road, “Like so many other mounds, it would have been destroyed to make room for construction if money hadn’t been raised to save it, in this case, with the help of a group of women at the Peabody Museum of Massachusetts.”  I’ve never seen Serpent Mound but have been to Effigy Mounds in Iowa. Written for dVerse, Pub for Poets’ challenge: write an ecopoetry by exploring and dwelling in our relationship with nature in such a way that implies responsibility and engagement. 

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Dunes of Time

lillian18 Comments

Sand granules shift in shoes
sweat stained belly, dripping hair.
Up and over and down and up
and over and dune after dune.
Some with coarse stubble grass
some ridged from recent winds,
steps sink deeper every step.

Alone with memories,
faces shift like heat shimmers
mirages in my exhausted mind.
One more ridge.
Burning feet stop cold,
pupils dilate, tear ducts long dry
begin to burn, arms lift in shock.

White ripples rise up enmasse,
cacophonous beating wings above my head
thousands swerve. Amorphous sound wave
disappears where blue meets blue.

I stumble, slip down this last sand mound
shocked by their intensity, here then gone.
Lying in cool waters, face to glaring sun
I understand now. They are all gone.

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Published in response to Quickly’s Winter Doldrums: focus on a remembered moement when you seemed to enter into another sense of time.

A Promise

lillian16 Comments

Skeleton trees rattle outside my window
the moon, their spotlight
as branches click like castanets.

No mouth, no heart, no head
just limbs flailing in the winter wind, so alive
though sap was spilled in days gone by.

They tap upon the glass as if to remind me,
seasons do change. Just keep in step
and move with us, partners in the dance.

The gift of greening shall evolve
and music shift to spring-time waltz,
nature’s present in days to come.

I smile, looking through the pane
today’s impossible will bloom tomorrow.
And I shall wire rose buds together,
a welcome wreath upon my door.

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Motivated by the Sunday Whirl, Wordle 233. Create a poem using these words/forms of these words: head, mouth, present, wire, change, gift, possible, spill, skeleton, moon, keep, step. Each Sunday a different Wordle is given! Very fun to take up this challenge. Photo credit: Heather Elaine Kitchen