Transition –
rest now peacefully.
You are loved
by many.
On angel’s wings you will soar,
as we say goodbye.
Written in honor of my sister-in-law who is in hospice care. Written for Day 7 NaPoWriMo prompt, to write a Shadorma: a poem of 6 lines with the following syllabic count: 3-5-3-3-7-5.
anxiety
panicky, out-of-control
debilitating, all-consuming, frightening
nervous, sleepless / composed, content
empowering, stimulating, calming
mindful, cognizant
serenity
Handknit, hand-dyed scarf.
Raw wool dipped in boiled walnuts,
transformed to mahogany brown.
Steeped in golden rod,
yellow yarn gleams.
Red wine we often sipped,
created rich burgundy section.
Scarf left behind,
she promised to return.
Summer here, woolens stowed,
save one colorful scarf.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time, come join us! Today’s word to incorporate into our quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, is wine.
Also shared at NaPoWriMo for Day 5. April is National Poetry Writing Month and the challenge is to write one poem every day during the month of April. Photo from Pixabay.com
And yes: I’ve dyed raw wool with such things as walnuts, wine, onion skins, golden rod, and even beets!
Rusty, stiff, unwilling introvert
this Covid-confined self.
Like a long steel girded tunnel
beam after beam
day after day
sameness leads nowhere
stretches far ahead,
farther than the mind can tolerate.
Until science leaps through hoops
crosses finish line,
wins trophy emblazoned HOPE.
Elixir in a sterilized needle.
Shots into arms engage wills
energizes souls.
Dim light,
once far beyond the grid
glimmers, brightens,
glows, grows.
Lights up faces around the world.
Emergence is near.
Written for Day 4 NaPoWriMo. The prompt is to use an image from Liminal Spaces@SpaceLiminalBot as motivation for a prompt. I chose the image above.
Escaped from blaring horns
hectic pace and sweat filled nights
caused by deadlines and stress.
Driving on two lane byways now.
The wayside diner beckons me.
Apple trees shade the walk,
bees buzz round fallen overripe fruit.
I don’t even lock the car doors.
Inside, large cheerful sunflowers
sit in vases on oilcloth covered tables.
Sheila sashays over with a pleasant hello,
sets down a chipped porcelain cup.
She pours in dark rich coffee right to the brim.
“What’ll ya have? Got fresh melon off the vine
and cinnamon buns are good today.”
Her nametag is printed in thick magic marker.
I sigh and nod my head. No words needed.
She saunters back somewhere, to the kitchen?
No matter. I just sit,
run my finger slowly round the coffee mug’s lip.
I stare out the window. Contemplate nothing.
No deadlines hurtling at me.
I’m in an internet dead zone.
I may just sit here until dinner time.
Placemat menu lists pot roast.
Sounds good to me.
Written for day 3 of NaPoWriMo. Today we are to create a Personal Universal Deck, an idea originated by the poet and playwright Michael McClure. He gave the project of creating such a deck to his students in a 1976 lecture at Naropa University. The idea is to take 50 index cards or pieces of paper and write words on each side of the card *so 2 words to a card; one on the front and one on the back; 100 words in total. The following instructions are given for the words: Divide 80 of the 100 words evenly among SIGHT, SOUND, TASTE, TOUCH AND SMELL, sixteen each. Also include 10 words of movement, at least one body part, and one abstraction (such as peace, patriotism, etc). Then, shuffle the cards and pick out at random, a number of cards. Lay them down and you will see the words looking at you. Create your poem using those words. The cards can be reshuffled and used many times….each time drawing out a number of cards from which to create your poem. You choose how many. I thought the title “Swapping Decks” went with the sense of the poem and also refers to the Personal Universal Deck I created for this prompt.
I picked out these words: blaring horn, cinnamon, buzz, sweat, sigh, sun flowers, and melon! These words were among the 100 that I wrote down on the cards, using the front and backs of the cards as instructed. An interesting exercise! I’m tempted to pull out the “deck of word cards” I’ve created, and use them again, drawing out cards at random, placing them on the table so one word on each is displayed (no fair turning the card over and choosing to use the other word!) and writing more poems from them. In a way, it’s like “found poetry”.
lilac buds compressed
scent withheld, blossoms bashful
spring has not yet sprung
Written for Day 2, National Poetry Writing Month where the challenge is to write a poem every day in the month of April. Photo taken in the Harvard Arboretum on Lilac Sunday, Mothers’ Day 2020.
Foolhardy
hardened fools.
Foul actions,
faction’s divisive beliefs.
Believability be damned.
Dams broken open harshly flow,
flow drippings putrid.
Putrified racism.
Destroy hope?
Hope says never.
Evil stands for all to see.
Seeing it exposed, evil energy
energizes truth tellers.
Telling all, Truth wins the trifecta.
Trifle not with win, place or show
show all as one:
Respect.
Equity.
Humanity.
Let it be so.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I am hosting today – pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Writers are invited to post a poem of their choice: no prompt, no particular form. BUT, they must tag or somehow direct their readers back to dVerse so others can share and be exposed to this gathering of supportive and creative writers.
Also offered for NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing) day one. April is National Poetry Writing Month and the traditional challenge is to write a poem every day of April. As I have in many years past, I accept the challenge. This was actually written and posted on April 1; I simply forgot to tag NaPoWriMo.
A note on my post: I am drawn to the idea that this is April 1st, commonly called April Fools’ Day. I am also drawn to the trial of the police officer accused in the murder of George Floyd. Somehow, with my pen scribbling in my journal, this confluence of those two facts appeared. The death of George Floyd caused a national, actually a global movement, recognizing racism. Many took to the streets in the US and abroad, espousing that this is the time for equity and humanity. George Floyd’s death was but one example of racism – albeit the one that woke up many.
Night sky’s scrim beams on us.
Heads tipped, eyes heavenward,
cold crisp air embraces.
Hope gleams bright, if we believe.
Heads tipped, eyes heavenward,
stars shine, diminish doubt.
Hope gleams bright, if we believe,
this truth shall live through pain.
Stars shine, diminish doubt
hearts must open willingly.
This truth shall live through pain,
our love shall bloom again.
Hearts must open willingly,
words must tumble free.
Our love shall bloom again,
night sky’s scrim beams on us.
Late to post to Peter’s prompt for Thursday’s Meet the Bar night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to write a pantoum.
Pantoum: comprised of 4 line stanzas the follow this pattern: 1,2,3,4; 2,5,4,6; 5,7,6,8; 7,9,8,1
In other words:
* the second stanza repeats the second and fourth lines of the first stanza, in its first and third line.
* The third stanza repeats the second and fourth line of the second stanza, in its first and third line.
* This pattern continues until the final stanza which repeats the second line of the stanza preceding it, as its first line; and the first line of the entire poem as its final line.
Quite tricky to write in the pantoum form and still have sense to the poem, without the form “sticking out” to the reader’s sensibility!
Hands gnarled by fishing gear
introvert with lonely heart,
I’ve sailed the seas many a year.
I search the horizon,
especially in breaking dawn.
Skies painted tangerine,
meld into passionate reds.
Converge with glistening waters
awakened at first light as well.
She’s come to me only thrice.
Some say I imagine her. But I say to you,
I’ve cast my eyes upon that face
sweetly framed by seaweed tendrils.
I’ve marveled at her iridescence,
that silver-flecked aquamarine tail.
Once she rose up high as if to greet me,
as if to mimic the sun’s rising arc.
Her breasts, opalescent soft mounds
barely covered by white cap foam,
nature in its ultimate innocence.
I gazed until her eyes locked on mine.
That one glorious moment
etched sublime within my mind,
keeps me more at sea than ashore,
searching forevermore.
I seek that miraculous convergence
when divine dawn breaks early light
and she appears once more.
She, the sweetest balm in all the world,
for my aching lonely heart.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Tuesday Poetics and Laura is hosting. She asks us to think about the poet as a painter. And most especially, she asks us to consider the ekphrastic poem: “The practice of using words to comment on a piece of visual art is an ancient one. One of the earliest and most commonly cited forms of ekphrasis occurs in The Iliad, when Homer provides a long and discursive account of the elaborate scenes embossed on the shield of Achilles… the term ekphrasis derives from Greek, where it literally means “description” and was formed by combining the prefix ex- (“out”) with the verb “phrazein” (“to point out or explain”)”. (Merriam Webster)”
HOWEVER, for this prompt, she gives us a number of artwork titles from contemporary artists and asks us to use that title, as the title of our poem – without looking at the actual artwork itself. With our words, we are to paint the story of or the image of that title. One title she provides for the prompt is Convergence by Jackson Pollack.
Image by Sharon McCutcheon:”Unsplash”
Top of the hill. Treeless.
Wildflowers blanket the meadow
canopied by cloudless sky
bluebird blue.
She stands, shear linen skirt billowing
arms outstretched,
face tipped toward afternoon sun.
Long ago declared their place,
they still meet here every year.
This day. This anniversary of his death.
She feels again his touch,
so real within the mountain air.
Yellow buttercups glad to see her,
wave spritely in spring’s breeze.
Delicate petals succumb to wind,
part from stem and float toward her.
Adhere to tear streaked cheeks
just as his kisses did that final day.
Sandals tossed aside,
dew moistened grass licks her toes
and she smiles.
He is with her here.
Their love was real,
still is, and shall be
forevermore.
Bjorn from Sweden is hosting OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Tonight the pub is live – poets will gather via the miracle of technology, visit with one another and read their poetry aloud. It’s marvelous to connect names with faces and voices. Everyone reads in English and we usually have folks attend from Sweden, India, the UK, the US, Australia, and other places around the globe. Come join us! Image from Pixabay.com
lillian the home poet 