Fly with me, my love,
once more into the skies
to sail upon the seas.
Far away lands,
new tastes and sounds.
Kisses iced with salty breezes,
dessert to cap our days.
When sun’s warmth wanes,
stars will glisten above the wake.
Through all our travels
when I am with you,
I am home.
Love Dances On
Victrola plays Glen Miller’s Moonlight Serenade.
She sits dozing, blue-veined hands quiet,
elbows on doily-covered armrests.
Asleep, she was dancing with him.
Awakening to reality
she stares at his empty chair.
Only a figment in her dreams now,
she still misses him every day.
A quadrille written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I’m hosting today, asking folks to include the word “figment” (or a form of the word) in their poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Image created in Bing Create.
In the Magical World of Catrin Welz-Stein
Come soar with me in my moon-balloon flying machine
over magical forests, gently crooning mountains
and islands planted within golden seas.
We shall stop at Wisest Woods
for I know you have questions,
as many children do.
Walk softly on Fiddlehead Fern Path
to the Tree of Life and Sanity.
Climb through its rustling verdant leaves.
Stand upon the highest left-fork branch.
Hum softly and she shall come,
the Elderness, Sagacious Owl.
Her talons sure footed on the tree,
her size, unimaginable to many,
her existence, known to but a few.
Open your journal
to yesterday’s dog-eared page.
Read to her your salient fears.
She shall listen, ponder,
provide wise counsel,
and then fly you back to us.
Under blue etched night skies
we shall rock you gently
until you awaken from your dreams.
Sharing this at dVerse Open Link Night……using two of Catrin Welz-Stein’s magical images from my Tuesday Poetics Prompt. Have been so busy reading posts to the prompt….and wanted to write to two more of her images.
Consumed by Gaze
Beautiful but
eyes were always upon her.
Expectations lofty, demanding,
be they spoken or not.
To be plain
was her dream.
To walk in the everyday world
unnoticed, unknown.
She did not understand
fame’s fortune was its curse.
She never was on the inside
what the outside came to expect.
Demanding eyes
claimed rights to her body,
feasted on the outside
as her soul withered within.
Beautiful image/art created by Catrin Welz-Stein.
Created for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets across the globe. Today I’m tending the pub – meaning I’m the host for today’s prompt. I’ve provided folks with four beautiful images created by artist Catrin Welz-Stein and asked them to choose one for inspiration. They are to write an ekphrastic poem in the purest sense, describing the image OR use the image as motivation to create a poem somehow connected to the image. They are, of course, required to give credit to the artist. Go to dVerse, to see the four images available.
If you’d like to learn more about artist Catrin Welz-Stein and/or see more of her incredible artwork, go to https://catrinwelzstein.com
Detour
“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” Heraclitus
Some years back we found ourselves near the town I grew up in – Waukegan, Illinois. I’d not been there in decades. We decided to take a detour in our planned trip and drive by some of my old haunts.
Sadly, the house I lived in for my first nine years was in a state of disrepair. Rickety porch steps, missing shingles. My mother’s beloved lilac bushes were no more. The downtown where I’d “scooped the loop” in the front seat of an old Chevy was barely recognizable. Not one store name was the same. Most jarring was my walk through the Catholic church I grew up in. How could it be so small? I remembered lighting candles inside a hushed space – a side grotto/cavern made of dark rock. There I stood, inside the grotto, looking at battery operated candles and grey plastic simulated stone walls. After lighting a candle and saying a small prayer for my mother, I decided to end our nostalgic tour. I wanted to keep the rest of my memories intact.
stream rushes surely
rocks tumble and change their shape
nothing stays as is
Frank is hosting Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. His prompt for today is to “imbue our haibun with mono no aware. Write on any topic that you like as long as your haibun embodies that wistful sadness marking the beauty of transience.” A haibun combines prose and a haiku. Image is a photo I took some years back on one of our vacations.
Flowers’ Delight
Place me amongst the flowers,
in the midst of petals glorious.
In my next life I shall be a bumble bee,
the queen, of course.
I shall meander regally
from one beautiful blossom to another –
savoring nature’s sweet nectar,
buzzing to my heart’s content.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De asks us to include the word “place” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
Photos taken on Saturday, just outside the high-rise building we live in, in the heart of Boston.
Black Woman with Peonies
Fresh peonies, sir? For the lady in your life?
Bouquet of crimson and gold tulips
for your table, ma’am?
She walks the market every morning,
flower basket in hand .
Cotton sweater wards off cool breeze.
Delicately notched white linen collar,
embroidered in tiny stitches,
frames her stoic sable face.
Modest madras head scarf
reveals pomegranate-red earrings
hanging below her earlobes.
She approaches early shoppers,
queries softly. Hides her anxiety.
These beautiful blooms
her livelihood.
Written for OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. OLN is Open Link Night when writers can post any one poem of their choosing OR use the optional prompt given.
As host for OLN today, I’ve provided an optional ekphrastic prompt. An ekphrastic poem is one that is inspired by a piece of art so today, I’ve provided the painting, Black Woman with Peonies by French Impressionist painter, Frederic Bazille. Born in 1841, he created this beautiful painting in 1870, the last year of his life.
Consider this an INVITATION!
I’m also hosting dVerse LIVE on Saturday, May 11th from 10 to 11 AM Boston time.
Folks from across the globe participate as we meet with audio and video for an hour. Each attendee is welcome to read a poem of their choice OR they can simply come by to watch and listen. We’re a very friendly bunch! One of the last sessions I hosted had folks from across the US, Pakistan, the UK, Sweden, Kenya, Australia, Trinidad Tobago, India, and Finland! If you’d like to join us click on the link below on Saturday, May 11th – beginning at 10 AM.
https://meet.google.com/pxr-nobe-oir
Hope to see you Saturday morning!
PS: if the link above doesn’t work, click here which will take you directly to the dVerse page that includes a direct link to the LIVE session!
Pollyanna . . .
. . . that’s not my name,
but it could be.
A Pollyanna is defined
as one who is optimistic,
always cheerful.
Looking toward the sun,
even in the rain.
For me, a rainy day is a
make-your-own-sunshine
kind of day.
In today’s divisive political climate,
our world fraught with horrific wars,
our earth struggling
as humans threaten its survival,
all the more important to remember
the sun is always there.
Even behind the darkest overcast skies.
I call it hope.
Lisa is hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. She asks us to consider the words pilgrimage, walkabout, and wandering, providing a poem for each of the words. One option within her prompt is to “take a line from one of the poems and expand on it.” I’ve used the line “looking toward the sun, even in the rain” from the poem Walkabout by Caren Krutsinger.
AND, consider this an INVITATION to all who read my poem to join us at dVerse LIVE on Saturday, May 11th from 10 to 11 AM New York time. A link will be provided at the dVerse site on Thursday, May 9th that will take you to the LIVE site, with audio and visual. You’re welcome to join us just to sit in and watch and listen; and/or to read aloud a poem of your choice. Last time I hosted our LIVE session we had folks from the US, UK, Sweden, Kenya, Finland, Trinidad Tobago, India, Pakistan, Australia and Israel! All participation is in English. Hope you drop by!
How ’bout them apples!
Past their prime,
over ripe apples hang in the balance.
Juice oozes, fruit drops to the ground
breaks open and fleshy mush spills.
Bright sunshine illuminates spoilage
as ants and maggots hover.
I found a box, cleaned it out, and filled it anew.
Past their prime
professors snore in ivory towers,
deliver lectures heard years before.
A ninety-year old senator stumbles,
scheduled to serve until 2029.
Justices can wear gowns until they die
unlike ballerinas who ditch their tutus
when the musculature gives out.
I found a box, cleaned it out, and filled it anew.
So here’s some words to consider then.
Timely picking does make good pies.
No matter the paper put round the fish,
they do eventually put up a stench.
The crowd generally cheers louder
when you leave the court at the top of your game.
I found a box, cleaned it out, and filled it anew.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Today we’re introduced to Bop Poetry created by Aafa Michael Weaver and asked to write a poem that follows the form below:
Create a 23 line poem, in 3 stanzas. The stanzas must be ordered in this fashion:
1. a 6 line stanza that poses a problem
2. an 8 line stanza that expands the problem
3. a 6 line stanza that solves the problem
AND, here is the tricky part,
each of the stanzas must have one additional line that is the refrain (repeated) and it must be either
“I found a box and put a room in it” OR we can add our own ending to “I found a box . . .”
FYI: Senator Chuck Grassley from Iowa is 90 years old and his term in the Senate does not expire until 2029. And, lest you think I am complaining about the age of President Biden: here in the U.S. we are faced with a choice between two men for President. One is 77 and the other is 81. So yes, I do wish there was new blood on both sides. However, these are the two men and one will become our next president. The difference between the two men could not be more stark. I fear for this country, for women, for my grandchildren, for the environment, for immigrants, for universities and schools if Donald Trump becomes president again.
Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay
Pinocchio Lives: an exercise in comparison. Fact or fiction.
Why doesn’t he show his birth certificate?
The boy cried wolf over and over again.
Lance Armstrong, Tour aficionado, stripped of medals.
Trump University. Defunct. $25 million settlement.
President Clinton: I did not have sexual relations with that woman.
Karen and Stormy who? E. Jean Carroll – she’s not my type.
Heard on a playground on any given day: Liar, liar, pants on fire.
As millions died of Covid he said, It’s totally under control.
Richard Nixon’s famous words: I am not a crook.
The orange guy racks up ninety-one felony counts.
The Big Lie. We won. We won in a landslide.
And Dorothy was sure
she’d meet the all-powerful Oz.
Today, NaPoWriMo ends for 2024
but before we close that door ~
note the words of Samuel Arnold,
written in 1797:
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horse and all the King’s men,
couldn’t put Humpty together again.
Let it be so.
Final prompt for NaPoWriMo 2024. Apologies to my readers who do not like politically bent posts.
The prompt for today is to “write a poem in which the speaker is identified with, or compared to, a character from myth or legend.”
Each stanza compares Mr. Trump to a person, character, or well-known story or rhyme. For example, the first stanza compares his stoking of the birther conspiracy regarding President Obama to Aesop’s Fable, The Boy Who Cried Wolf.
Image created in Bing Create AI.
lillian the home poet 