Descending into Earth’s belly
we clamber over solidified lava,
misshapen slabs, coarse and sharp.
Crouch. Walk. Crawl in darkness.
Her innards surround us.
Two thousand years have passed
since she belched fire
spewed molten fury
encased this land.
Liquid anger flowed and ebbed
cracked in cooling drafts
left behind tunnel pathways,
cold witness to those fury days.
My mouth agape,
body chilled to the bone,
we move through this, her confession,
the scars of a temper once unleashed.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where Paul asks us to write a poem from our underground travels. Paul opens Tuesday Poetics at 3 PM Boston time. Photos: from our recent excursion into the lava fields and extinct volcanoes outside Reykjavik, Iceland. We actually went underground and explored a 2,000 + year old lava tube. That’s me in the purple. Last photo is what the land above the tube looks like — that’s lichen growing on ancient lava fields. Very barren and harsh. Iceland is one of the world’s most sparsely populated countries. It has extensive volcanic and geothermal activity (see photos with my one sentence poem entitled Geyser. About 50% of Iceland is mountainous lava desert. Only 1% of their land is cultivated.
earth spews steam
in unseemly belch.
Photos from outside Reykjavik, Iceland. There are 300 volcanoes in Iceland. 50% of Iceland’s landmass is mountainous lava desert. The famous Blue Lagoon is in the midst of lava fields with waters heated by the natural geothermal heat “beneath the earth.” These photos show the steam belching from the earth. In some places, large geysers shoot up. Iceland collects this geothermal energy and uses a system of pipes below streets in Reykjavik to keep streets from icing over and they also provide heat and electricity to homes in Iceland. Absolutely amazing to see.
earth sheds detritus
clutter clutched in melting snow –
rivers cascade spring
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets from across the globe where today, Paul is tending bar and asks us to write about rivers. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come river dance with us!
moss, lichen and fiddle ferns
padded damp silent floor
cool moisture clings
leaves shiver in residual rain
stubborn clouds persist
dawn struggles to lift the shade
Post written in response to Day 12 of 21 day challenge online course led by Holly Wren Spaulding. Write about a room.
Stones lean precariously after years of neglect. Some cracked. Others bedecked by lichen. Tall wild grasses and spindly trees surround antiquity. Tourists hike the nearby road, unaware. Disconnected to what was. But the Earth knows. She periodically sheds tears, some frozen in anguish, others gentle in their falling. Her memory forever graced by those embraced within her folds.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where today’s prompt is to write prose poetry. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. This is a special place in cyberspace where poems are shared and read. Come join us!
hissing gushing geysers
She breathes as her children live.
Inspired by recent dVerse prompt to write about breath. Photos: Tauranga NZ on the farm used for Hobbiton in Lord of the Rings; Rotorua, NZ — geysers on land of the Maori people; untitled painting by Louise Hearman, Australian artist, exhibited at the Art Museum of New South Wales — all her paintings are untitled; and Lake Wakatipu near Queenstown, NZ. All taken on our recent 40 day journey to Singapore, Bali, Australia and New Zealand. I have now returned and shall be posting regularly again. Hope you’ll join me often — I enjoy the feedback of readers!
Clouds slung over land
like a prayer shawl before the dawn.
They cling softly to earth’s shoulders,
until sun begins to warm her soul.
Mist slowly slips away
leaves moisture upon her limbs,
like tear drops shed in supplication
seeking grace for this day.
Monday’s quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words) for dVerse, that virtual pub for poets, where today Kim is tending bar and folks are writing about clouds. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on over and imbibe in more clouds. Photos from a past trip to Alaska.
Glazed apricot sun slowly dips,
smudging cloud slips in her graceful retreat.
Tall lithe trees fade into shadow forms,
hushed in awe as once glistening lake
darkens to ebony glass.
Forest spirits lulled by night fall
to a solitary loon’s evensong.
And we sit,
grateful for serenity.
She walked away
many years ago.
Chose overgrown trails
sun tipped wild roses
and unflinching stars
on the backroad of life.
Photo taken in Mt Rainier National Park.
Natural beauty, serene
sits in aura of pine tree wisps.
shades of ebony and white.
Round face pivots not.
Stoic eyes stare
as voyeur camera
takes its shot.
Amazing photo taken by my niece, Charli Michele Gruenwald, in her back yard. She lives on Lopez Island in the state of Washington.