for putting in.
Rarely
taking out.
Three corroded pennies.
One pale yellow
Tupperware bottle cap.
One hair comb.
Strands
stuck in teeth.
One black and white
cracking
turned grays
dime store photostrip.
Sachet
absent scent.
Seven holy cards.
Lipstick bottom
almost empty
vibrant
red.
Tumbled
left behinds.
Bits
of
her.
Written for day 3 of my poetry mentor’s March 21 Day Challenge online poetry class. We are to write a poem of short lines with many stanzas.
Rocky shoals
carved by wind and sea,
lessons in patience
to the passage of time.
Photos from a recent walk to Tobacco Bay near St George’s, Bermuda. No photoshopping. It truly is this beautiful.
We’ve travelled together
through all these years
hand in hand, even apart,
exploring each twist and turn.
So much of our story behind us now,
turned down corners on favorite pages.
Still, we walk on, more slowly perhaps,
wizened bodies and fuller hearts.
Listen my love
as we choose our next path,
to these words I quietly say.
Thank you time, thank you you,
for this and every day.
Today Mish hosts dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She interviews Ally R Saunders, a talented artist who spent most of her life in Nanaimo, includes some of her paintings and leads us to her website. I chose her painting Many Paths as the muse for today’s post. (My 47th anniversary is February 7 and Kim at dVerse just celebrated her anniversary) dVerse opens with this prompt at 3 PM Boston time.
i.
And you shall ornament this yuletide season,
spread tinseled happiness ’round the world.
ii.
Brooch pinned to frayed prayer shawl,
treasured ornament from days long past.
iii.
Fruit bowl on wormwood kitchen table,
waxed ornaments that never spoil.
iv.
Ornament me
with your smile.
Ms. Quickly asks us to look around, see what grabs our eye. Name it and take that word, create couplets with it. Each couplet should have two lines, about the same length, and “look” at the chosen word from from different angles. Photos: What caught my eye — Two unique ornaments: Lillian – from my kindergarten teacher 64 years ago; and a very fragile bell, given to my mother when she was married. Ornament — an interesting word!
script of unlined sheaves
vellum void
must write/right itself
more ad lib seen/scenes
life in present
learn from past-tense
new year
ingenue reborn
elusive time
slips through fingers
like threads of gossamer silk
elusive time
disappears like dew drops
as sun steeps blades of grass
elusive
as sheaves of journal pages
covered in faded ink,
tear drop stains
softened by the years
journal pages
fingered tentatively
as she sits, mind wandering,
wizened body ensconced
in pale grey prayer shawl
I’m hosting the bar at dVerse today, a virtual pub for poets, and asking folks to write a poem with the word “time” in it; or a poem about a particular time etched in their memory. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and imbibe some poetic words or take up the prompt yourself. We’d love to have you! Photo credit: Kristen Hultzapple.
Feeds: TBD
Baking Time: 65 to 70 years.
Time may vary, depending on your power source
Ingredients:
One ripe chick or rooster
Zest of lemon pepper (sometimes called life)
1 cup of sunny disposition, firmly packed
1 Peter Pan attitude [the flying kind; not the collar]
Dash of bitters, tempered by condensed joy
Step lively – do not beat.
To achieve needed volume,
may use lower speed or additional appliance.
Texture may be wrinkled – this is normal.
Choose icing to your liking.
Tutti fruiti is, by far, the most popular.
Add cinnamon red hots for extra kick.
Tinsel may be used for effect during the Christmas season.
Best served with a glass of cold chardonnay,
although a virgin bloody mary may also make merry.
Enjoy!
For today’s Poetics prompt at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, Mish asks us to write a recipe poem! She includes a list of suggestions such as a recipe for peace, merriment, etc and “rejuvenation” was among the suggestions. Well! That’s my word! See my About 🙂 Never say “retirement.” I’m in rejuvenatement! 🙂 So here you go, Mish! I accepted the challenge. Photo is of my Christmas tree when I was a little girl — drenched in tinsel! Hence the line in the poem.
Today is brewing, steeping.
Clouds blur within my head.
Grass pricks feet like shards
or linoleum with eyes.
They’re supposed to be on faces.
And that song, Tiny Bubble, goes with a ukulele.
It’s yesterday again, or Tuesday tomorrow.
I shall pad to the upstairs water closet.
Run ocean waves until steam rises like fog
and drains clog with long dulcimer hairs.
I will slip under the sea
to become an anemone.
No one can miss me.
Because i have not been here
for a long long time.
I wake up first. Our pattern for the past forty-six years. Turning my head, I see the love of my life. He sleeps, small puffs of air escaping from his lips. I smile recalling early days when he rocked our children, sang softly and soothed them into their dreams. His beard is white now. His hair more sparse than when the alarm clock jarred us into busy career filled days. I am content. I know we will soon be talking, laughing and loving, thankful for this day.
sun rises indolently
touching cloud puffs with rising blush
a new day to love
Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse, a virtual pub for poets, where Grace asks us to write about an ordinary moment in our day, challenging us to find the “extra” in that moment. A haibun is a paragraph of prose, written in the first person and is a true personal narrative; followed by a haiku that is complementary. Photo from Provincetown, MA.
There comes a point in time
when life doesn’t migrate,
it meanders.
Meanwhile . . .
morning alarms come alive
coffee is gulped, black and strong.
Commuter rails and trails
fill with busy bees,
drones and queens with tasks ahead.
Life moves on a conveyor belt,
bar codes intact . . .
while I roll over,
wiggle my toes
and let the day unfold.
Shared at dVerse, Open Link Night, a virtual pub for poets. Folks share a poem of their choice on OLN. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo: dawn in Provincetown, Cape Cod.
lillian the home poet 