If life gets too staccato,
simply insert a rest
and slip into three-quarter time.
Advice from a musician . . .
One Sentence Poems
Thoughts on a Friday
Looking at the ancient eucalyptus tree’s
gnarled and peeling bark
in the midst of verdant greenery,
I see beauty in its maturity
and feel content in my skin.
Photo taken yesterday from the patio of our San Diego rental, which overlooks a canyon. This stately aging eucalyptus tree fascinates me.
Credo
In the spaces of the doldrums,
I find my faith.
In these days of Covid-19, when we are tied closer to home, I find more time for reflection. I believe it is an important time to maintain our faith; to believe in the good. Photo taken at dawn, last year in Provincetown on Cape Cod.
Four Mini-Portraits
The Office Achiever
He fancied himself a jockey
riding the backs of many
on his way to the top spot.
The Malcontent
He fancied himself a botanist
dropping seeds of discontent
in every conversation he joined.
Two-Faced
Adept in two careers . . .
meteorologist and politician.
A pinch of fog blurs reality
wearing either suit.
The Planner
Architect by trade
he drew blueprints for his life.
Meticulous plans.
Until she walked in one sultry night,
right angles upset by curves.
Vignette 4
Acrobat by trade
she tumbled her way
through the three-ringed circus
everyone else called life.
the player
scabby knees squat low
agate rolled in sweaty palms
spit for extra luck
cold marbles wait for quick hit
king of the hood at six, shoots
A tanka (5 lines with the following syllabic pattern: 5-7-5-7-7) written for Misky’s Twiglet #82, “cold marble”. A twiglet is a short phrase meant to inspire writing. Perhaps someday all our children will only shoot marbles.
Haiku in pink
petal-pink spring rain
cherry blossoms gently fall
washington dc
Arrived in Washington DC yesterday; staying until the end of May. Photos taken in backyard of our rental. Sitting outside, every breeze brought a gentle rain of pink blossoms from the large cherry tree that towers over one portion of the yard. Magical! Washington DC is beautiful this time of year.
Nighttime Haiku
nighttime tracking tool
star dusted pillow leaves tracks ~
footprints of my dreams
The Librarian
It was quiet
until, finger to her lips,
she loudly whispered
shhhhhh!
Written for the Twiglets, where the prompt is a short phrase, means to create a flow, memory or idea. “it was quiet” is Twiglet # 47.
Race Horse
Another poem by my 10 year old granddaughter, Stella Hallberg.
Led roughly to the gates
forced in by my jockey,
I’m pawing moist earth
waiting for an opening
in this prison.
Photo in public domain at Pixabay.com
lillian the home poet 