Claude Monet tiptoed through last night’s deep slumber. Wrapped my dream in glorious blooms, hushed pinks fading into hazy purple iris. Calmed my senses with myriad brushed greens. Dewed my eyes as undulating water lilies nudged me into wakefulness. I sit remembering and smile.
Quadrille written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish asks us to include the word “wrap” or a form of the word, within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
Would that we all could be
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,
sailing and bobbing along
on beautiful misty seas.
Snuggled together in our boat
lullaby waves softly lulling,
drifting slowly under the stars
off to the shores of Neverland.
Never the hatred,
never the strife.
Never the sadness
never the Covid-19.
Yes, I’ll be Wynken and you be Blynken,
both with our lids shut tight.
Smile with me and together shall we
nod off to the shores of Neverland.
Sarah is hosting Tuesday Poetics today at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to write about boats. For me, the first thing that came to mind was the poem Wynken, Blynken, and Nod. My mother often read it to me when I was very young….always just before bedtime. The poem was written by American writer and poet, Eugene Field and first published on March 9, 1889. Photo illustration is from the actual book my mother read to me from, Volume One, Poems of Early Childhood, in Childcraft in Fourteen Volumes, published by the Quarrie Corporation, Chicago, in 1947. I’ve obviously also taken liberty with Peter Pan’s Neverland!
Tell me a story, magical and gentle,
like Shasta daisy petals
dancing in soft winds.
Lullaby me through foamy seas.
Envelop me in undulating waves.
Stir my imagination
beyond daily doldrums.
Guide me into Neverland
on etheral dream wings,
soaring beneath sand encrusted lids.
Quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title) written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where De asks us to use the word “stir” within the body of our poem. Photo taken on La Jolla, CA coastal walk last week. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
The car pulled up. I couldn’t tell the make of it. Smooth and curved. Nothing harsh, angular or metallic. It was parked and waiting for something. One long oval window stretched from end to end. There was no driver; just passengers with smiling faces. Hands waved at me, saying hello. Or motioning me to join them? Then I saw. These were beloved faces. My two aunts and uncles. My mother, father and brother. All wanting me to join them. So happy. So inviting.
I woke up groggy, sitting up in bed; in the middle of the night. Then I remembered the car. The waving. Who they were. Wanting me to join them. But they’d been dead for many years. I whispered aloud, “Not now. I can’t. Not yet.”
Next thing I knew, the alarm was ringing. Time to rise and shine and get on with my day. It wasn’t until lunch at work that I remembered it all. Exactly as I wrote it here.
frost glazes window
dog sleeps nearby, legs twitching
runs from what in dream
I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today I’m asking folks to write a poem somehow related to a dream or dreaming….they can take us inside a dream, create a dream, write about the process of dreaming — be it a nightmare, a daydream, a hallucination, or a suspended state. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Dream suite décor.
Rest upon cumulus pillows
as moonbeam lullaby lulls.
Sprinkled star dust
as deep sleep seeps in.
Spirits soar into everland,
ethereal land of smiles.
Compassion and love live,
bloom in forever springs.
Until we jolt awake,
plopped . . .
into another mundane day.
I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics today at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. The topic to consider is dreams / dreaming. Go to the site and listen to some wonderful songs about dreaming (Youtube links) sung by the Everly Brothers, Bobby Darrin, Bing Crosby, and the Mama and Papas. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Firm friendship, nary
older, not wary.
Inspired by my recent visit in Yokohama with Kenji Kojima. Photos of Kenji and I in our 1965 senior high school album. And a new photo of us taken together last week in Yokohama, Japan.
Kenji was an AFS exchange student from Japan during our 1965 senior year at Waukegan Township High School in Illinois. We had not seen each other since 1965! The years didn’t matter. The distance didn’t matter. The friendship held true and we enjoyed two wonderful hours together reminiscing, talking about our families and grandchildren. What an absolute privilege to see him again.
Poetry form is the Lai: 9 lines with the following syllabic and rhyming restrictions:
Line 1: 5 syllables, rhyme word a
Line 2: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
Line 3: 2 syllables, rhyme word b
Line 4: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
Line 5: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
Line 6: 2 syllables, rhymes with b
Line 7: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
Line 8: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
Line 9: 2 syllables, rhymes with b
Decision must-do list sits crumpled,
blue pill bottle tipped askew.
Disturbed sleep awaits release,
sweat covered head buried in down.
adrift on wobbly table legs.
slice mahogany waves,
slivers shred my hands.
Teeth grit like hammer’s vise.
One thousand dentists drill,
prying, prying, prying still.
High pitched metallic sound
gathers sharks, circling round.
Close to waking, tossing, turning
seagull’s wings appear.
Flapping madly, madly more
tip the cup ‘till I spill forth,
swim across the dawning rays.
Sea of calm upon my face
hands relax, fingers curve,
arms arc upon the bed.
Dream softens in balletic pose,
body slips to denouement.
Curtains rise on new world.
Written for Napowrimo, Day 14 where we’re asked to consider dreams….and to include one or all of the following words/items: teacup, hammer, seagull, ballet slipper, shark, wobbly table, dentist, row boat. I’ve included all….using balletic and slips for ballet slipper.
Red ibis frozen in time
millisecond before flight
haphazard photographical luck.
I could bring back
one precious moment
from my life’s entirety?
All would be as it is now
except for a room-sized box
where the moment lives
exactly as it was
and I can step in and out
and in and out
of the box
back into that moment.
Savor and touch
live it again and again
inside the box
whenever I want,
only one box.
What would be
my red ibis
frozen in time?
Photo taken at Bermuda Aquarium, Museum and Zoo, BAMZ. Posted for Napowrimo Day 7. Prompt is to think of different roles we occupy, different parts of ourselves and then write a poem where two conflicting “selves” have a discussion. Here, the realist talks with the dreamer.