aunt, uncle, cousin
vanished from the lexicon
and boys longed for girls
Having travelled to China three times when I led a Global MBA, I found a beautiful country, people and culture. China recently rescinded their one child policy, recognizing the various problems it ultimately created. Photo Credit: Bobby McGill.
Magic beans lie atop the fallow ground
rooted by tears those many years ago.
His death, unexpected
after one hundred glorious days.
She’d waited patiently,
gossamer hair now grey.
And when the monsoon rains did come
they matched her grief in magnitude.
Rivers engorged
became fast running seas.
Earth drenched in new hope,
the magic began to grow.
Tendrils became vines
became trees became redwoods,
and blushed at her ascent.
Last steps on lightning’s jagged stairs.
His fingertips reached down for hers,
thunderous clouds turned calm.
And a new blaze was born that night,
third star to the north of Sirius.
Photo Credit: Michele de Notaristefani
Like our life, a meld of tangles and the beautiful.
Skeins of wool.
Layer upon layer, unwound and wound again, shaped anew
redefined for you.
My arms, for warmth ‘neath heavens above,
reflect our love,
as we stand, dreams shared, taking hold of
us in this sparkling path of moonlight.
We blend together, you and I, like bright
skeins of wool, redefined for you, reflect our love.
An Ovillejo written for dVerse. A Spanish form of verse, ovillejo is a 10 line poem: rhyme scheme aa, bb, ccd, dd and the final 10th line must be lines 2, 4 & 6 verbatim. Lines 2, 4 and 6 are short, remaining lines long. Whew! Like doing a sudoku in poetry!!! Photo Credit: Ula Kapala
Curtains open wide
streaming sun shines warmth and love
today I shall live.
It was all they wanted for their anniversary. They’d traveled every state and hiked so many trails together. They just wanted to go back to the beginning. The old amusement park.
We brought them to the litter strewn vacant lot. We’d heard the story so many times. The Tunnel of Love where the boat rocked in dark water, pulled forward by chains. Their first kiss.
They saw the rusted turnstile; ride long gone. And as is if we weren’t there, embraced. Their kiss, strong, passionate and deep. We blushed. Our father and mother, a man and woman at their core.
Word Count: 100 Photo Credit: Amy Reese. Written for Friday Fictioneers, so deftly organized by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Drones.
Little mechanical beasties
shall not be my demise!
Flashing metal, whirs and spins,
winds whoosh. Just concentrate!
Umbrella steady, point toes left.
Nose bleeding, dress in shreds
whirling blades too close again.
Children waiting. Parents chafing.
Magic wearing thin.
Umbrella soon to be
my rain-only accessory.
With apologies to Mary Poppins. Motivated by Dverse Poets Pub prompt: create a Persona Poem. Decided to take the “light” approach today — a little humor to hopefully make you smile.
The weather shifted suddenly. For weeks, I walked along the tree-lined path with Sakura. She and I wrapped warmly in our love. Mother ignored the almanac’s provisions, coaxing cherry trees to bloom again. Shades of pink daring to be seen among branches stripped bare in their dormant season. They did not understand, the calendar progresses relentlessly.
And so I walk alone today, Sakura gone. Cold seeps into my bones and the sentinels of this path. New fallen snow blankets branches and lands upon my face. But it is not a comforter to me, nor to these delicate blossoms, still life in this winter scene.
She shall shroud your love
like new fallen snow upon the bark
and the buds shall be stilled.
Word Count: 131 including title. Posted for Haibun Monday in Dverse Poets Pub. Haibun: a Japanese poetic form that includes prose followed by a haiku. Haibun frequently includes fugetsu (natural scenery) and kaketoba (use of words with double meaning). Sakura is the Japanese word for cherry blossoms and also used a woman’s name. Comforter can be a blanket or someone who comforts. Still life refers to a painting (as this photo almost is) and to dying. A Haibun should also include an eternal truth or a theme that can be understood by many. Photo Credit: copyright Kanzensakura all rights reserved – Used by permission. With apologies to Toni: I just went back and read your prompt and it indicates this is a quince blossom. I looked and immediate saw cherry blossoms!
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.
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
I need your help,
the crocodile is getting close.
Time just seems to disappear
even on ho hum days.
Please send Tinker Bell
to flit round my head.
I’ll remember then
to think wonderful things.
And the starry sky
outside my window
will look more inviting
when it’s my turn to fly.
lillian
Quickly’s Winter Doldrums Jan 10 Prompt: write an epistolary poem – a poem in the form of a letter.
Gathering place after.
Buffet of chatter and remember whens,
mourning turned noon nosh.
Black suits balance white plates
as coffee urns pour and pour
like earlier tears during amens.
You always could draw a crowd.
lillian the home poet 