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.
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
“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.
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.
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.
. . . 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!
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.
Quick-minded youth leap to decisions, days assumed to blaze in glory. Bright eyes focus on the glossy blind to consequential reality.
Those with blue veined maps on their hands contemplate the world as a Pensieve. Luminescent vapors teem with incandescent memories, decisions weighed accordingly.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe where today Mish asks us to create a quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words sans title) that includes the word blaze.
Also written for NaPoWriMo Day 29 where the prompt is explained in this way: “If you’ve been paying attention to pop-music news over the past couple of weeks, you may know that Taylor Swift has released a new double album titled “The Tortured Poets Department.” In recognition of this occasion, Merriam-Webster put together a list of ten words from Taylor Swift songs. We hope you don’t find this too torturous yourself, but we’d like to challenge you to select one these words, and write a poem that uses the word as its title.” One of the words in the list is incandescent.
Rowan, Puss’ cousin, was the original one. He died on a cold winter’s night giving rise to number two, Tabby Tat. Nearsighted, she met her demise squinting down a busy street. Number three was Kit the Kat, catapulted to fame by a candy bar. Sugar highs and alley fights finally did him in. Mouser came next, not very smart, he followed a mouse into a trap and was last heard to say, oh crap! The next reincarnation came in a far away land. Penelope the Puma, sadly and cruelly killed by a hunter’s hand. Her ghost became the charming Ms. Cheetah, seduced to her death by a devilish Tom. Lorna the Lynx was up next. She lolled through life until her untimely death. And now if you’ve been counting with me we’ve come to the ninth penultimate life. That final reiteration, none other than Felicity Feline, intensely happy, true to her name. I am delighted to report, she found a happy home with the prolific painter, Mr. Louis Wain. Her portrait, painted in joyous colors, stands out in his collection. And so, while all those other eight are forgotten Felicity lives on in perpetuity, frozen in time, displayed on an easel, for generations to visit and see.
Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics on prompt where Melissa is introducing us to the English artist Louis Wain. He is “best known for his drawings of anthropomorphised cats. Born in Londin in 1860…he attended the West London School of Art, where he would go on to teach for a time….In 1884…The Illustrated London News was first to publish Wain’s art. It wasn’t until 1886 that he received more widespread recognition….he was elected president of the National Cat Club….he was a prolific artist. During his lifetime, he drew thousands of cats (it is estimated that the number exceeds 150,000.” Melissa asks us to choose one of his paintings/drawings she includes in her prompt, and to “write a poem inspired by the artwork. Simple enough, right? There’s just one catch – you may not use the word cat anywhere in your poem, including the title.”
I selected Wain’s painting, Untitled.
I had some fun with this….using many different words that refer to cats: puss, tabby, kit, mouser, puma, cheetah, tom, lynx, and feline. I also had some fun with wordplay, without using the word “cat” as in the Kit Kat candy bar, and catapulted.
Living my life as a perennial? Lily of the valley, that would be me. Closest to forever I ever would be.
Lily of the valley, that would be me, planted beneath our family tree. I ever would be blooming and seeing generations to come.
Planted beneath our family tree. Closest to forever, blooming and seeing generations to come, living my life as a perennial.
Written to fulfill the prompts for for day 18 of NaPoWriMoand for Meet the Bar Thursday at dVerse the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Prompt for NaPoWriMo today is to write a poem where “the speaker expresses the desire to be someone or something else and explains why.”
Prompt for dVerse today is to write a Pantoum: a poem of any length written in quatrains and using the prescribed line directions below: Line 1 Line 2 Line 3 Line 4
Line 5 (repeat of line 2) Line 6 Line 7 (repeat of line 4) Line 8
Last stanza: Line 2 of previous stanza Line 3 of first stanza Line 4 of previous stanza Line 1 of first stanza
lillian the home poet 