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
The Process
Mindful verbosity
irridescent gems within my mind,
words shiver flutter, push for prominence.
Ideas flow through synapses
sometimes like scattered leaves
rearranged by sudden gusts.
Poetic musing wrestles reality.
Cacophonous silent noise
atonal at times,
until the coda appears.
Moonbeam
Introduction first: this poem is written by my 10 year old granddaughter, Stella Hallberg. She and I share monthly prompts. For May, I sent her the word “percolate.” There are no edits here and no one helped her. This is what she wrote.
Love
Like a moonbeam
Starting just as dark
Both percolate into light
Both something more than life
Bright
Beautiful
Precious
A gem in a sea of rocks
A light in an ocean of shadows
Blessings
When the cacophony of news blares deafening dreadful,
‘tis time to still one’s feet, one’s hands, one’s mind.
Seek the beautiful, but for a moment.
Listen to stillness and you will hear the quiet.
Contemplate the beside you ~
the chair upon which you sit
the cold-hot water you may choose to drink, to draw
the texture of cloth which warms your skin
the view through glass panes that alternates,
day to night to day again
the love you carry within your heart,
from those who have held your hands.
Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
Then slowly rise and move deliberately,
into the good.
It’s Tuesday and that means Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Paul is hosting and tells us about a book, Anam Cara, by Irish poet/philosopher John O’Donahue, which includes a number of “Blessings” poems. Paul asks us to write a blessing, adding “and may our words create ripples in the pond of the world.” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come soar with us! Photo taken a number of years ago on our Baltic cruise.
Transient Beauty
It was the first summer after we bought our Iowa farm house. City transplants, we planted a huge garden. Tomatos, sweet corn, carrots, beets, cucumbers, radishes, green and yellow beans, peas, zucchini, squash and pumpkin, all kinds of peppers, and oak leaf and ruby red lettuce. I planned to can and freeze vegetables. Enjoy our harvest through the winter.
On this particular hot and humid day, I was seven months pregnant and exhausted, but very proud of my first attempt at canning stewed tomatoes. I’d picked and washed the tomatoes. Dipped them in boiling water to loosen the skins. Chopped them with celery and peppers. Cooked the mixture and poured them into sterilized glass jars. And finally processed them in the pressure canner. Deliciously, gloriously red, the mixture was now displayed in mason jars, standing tall on my cupboard.
And then I heard our German Shepherd barking — a lot. I took two steps into the back yard and stopped dead in my tracks. The smell was unbelievable. Skunk. And all those beautiful stewed tomatoes, gone in a flash. Rubbed into the coat of Toby. At least he had the grace to lick his chops.
nature thunders rain
magnolia blooms fall to ground
magnificence gone
It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Grace asks us to write a haibun related to summer. This summer memory is from many many years ago. Haibun: prose (cannot be fiction) followed by a haiku (should be related to nature). Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come on over and join the fun! Photo in public domain – from Pixabay.
The Request
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
Our hearts and souls aligned, yet still we spar.
I promise to lead thee nowhere astray.
Your eyes whisper words, seem softly to say
whither we goest? And the door’s left ajar.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
As the moonlight glistens, gifts our soiree,
I shall protect thee as a fragile star.
I promise to lead thee nowhere astray.
Your scent my dear, an enticing bouquet
beguiles my mind, my loins, I lust too far.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
To kiss, to hold. How this resolve doth sway,
struggles to recall who and what we are.
I promise to lead thee, nowhere astray.
Do think of me as in Romeo’s day,
’tis painful unrequited love to bar.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
I promise to lead thee nowhere astray.
It’s Thursday at dVerse and Frank asks us to write a Villanell, a 19 line poem: 5 tercets followed by 1 quatrain. Within the first tercet, the key lines are 1 and 3. They’re repeated in a prescribed order. Also, the rhyme scheme is quite strict: only an “a” (IE pray, astray, say, soiree etc) and “b” (IE spar, ajar, star, far, etc). So it should look like this:
1a, 2b, 3a (numbers = lines; a and b = rhyme scheme)
4a, 5b, 1a (line 1 repeated)
6a, 7b, 3a (line 3 repeated)
8a, 9b, 1a (line 1 repeated)
10a, 11b, 3a (line 3 repeated)
and finally the quatrain:
12a, 13b, 1a again, 3a again
It’s a poetic sudoku!! Frank does indicate that we do not have to follow iambic pentameter — thank goodness! 🙂 The challenge is to have some kind of meaningful flow and sense to the piece. Needless to say, I find this extremely difficult….but at dVerse, I’m always willing to give it a shot 🙂
Pub opens at 3 PM. Stop by and see what others have done with this unique form!
A Telling Tale
He looked back one last time. No one noticed as he left. People milling about mistook the bright wormhole for a full moon. But he knew. They’d come back for him.
He was not of this time. But because of her, he desperately slithered toward the machine. He’d shapeshifted somewhere between town and this desolate field. She’d touched . . . what? His synapses? Some seed of humanity roiling within these tentacles? He’d followed orders. Assessed the creatures.
There are more good than bad! She and I can turn this earth! The energy field engulfed him. They would never know.
Flash Fiction (exactly 100 words) written for Friday Fictioneers where the masterful Rochelle Wisoff-Field provides a photo and challenges us to create a story for it. This is actually from last week’s challenge. Have not done fiction here for quite a while. A good change of pace! Photo Credit: Dale Rogerson.
A Sign of the Times
Day after day, he stacked the mail
catalogues, ads, all on the steps
in rain and sleet, and snow and hail.
So I sat by the window, waiting one day
caught him as he was walking away,
and queried him nicely. Why?
Why don’t you use the LETTERS slot
that’s right on the door, quite plain to see.
He stared and looked blankly at me.
“Well ma’am, I see the sign on your door
capital block letters, all in blue,
and that little slot thing too.
But I have no idea what LETTERS means
and the slot’s too narrow to ever fit
all this important stuff you get.”
Ping.
“Excuse me ma’am,”
the young man said with a grin,
“That’s an important text coming in.”
Mish is hosting Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to write a poem about signs. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and join in the fun! Photo in public domain.
Film Noir, Act I
Graveyard journey.
Ghosts whisper, dance,
twist, shimmer.
Breeze skips through leaves.
Clouds balloon, curl, drizzle,
storm bubbles open.
Lightning sparks, sounds echo.
Dawn spills, melts rose-red.
Peppered blood-shadows
scar green spring grass.
Nervous giggle jars grin.
Cue shallow breath.
Still lull.
Death laughs here.
[INCLUDES ALL THE WORDS THUS FAR]
Quadrille – poem with exactly 44 words, sans title. dVerse Quadrille Mondays: every other week. Each time a word prompt is given: week #1 = Quadrille #1 and 1 word; Week #2 = Quadrille #2 and a new word; etc. We build to Quadrille # 44 in week 44 with still another word. We’re on Week #35 with Kim hosting and providing the prompt word “pepper.” Past words this series have included dance, bubble, grin, lull, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath, scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, drizzle, still, echo, sound, storm, spring, and balloon. I tried to use all the words for #32 but mistakenly left out 2. All here this time and I’ve shifted the focus a bit. Photo: from our recent trip – Glendalough, Ireland. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Forward
I take my walkabouts at the optimum time of day,
always with my shadow in the lead,
following her confident pace,
one step at a time into my future.
Sharing with dVerse, Open Link Night. Photo in public domain.
lillian the home poet 