Sun shimmers through forest’s canopy. Moon cuts path across ocean’s abyss. Infant’s mouth opens to circle small, pink tongue slides in and out and in again.
Girl grins, pumping swing as pigtails fly. Puddles appear inviting all to splash. Child’s momentary shock as bat hits ball, then small feet fly to first.
Thick carpet of pristine snow invites children of all ages to lie down, swooping arms. Create guardian angels among us.
Folks sway in jazz club, hear saxophones mellow out. Watch nimble fingers create piano riffs, brushes rhythmically swish on snares.
In the midst of ever present news, cacophonies of catastrophes. Find space to feel lightness, safe harbors for hope.
I roam this curving shaded path. Hopscotch through my youth in rompers skinny legs, scraped knees, curly hair. Naively sweet and unaware.
In my myopic teenage years I roam this curving shaded path. Blinders on, friends all important. Time flies, motion undetected.
Parenting years, our sweet children. Together we laugh and love as I roam this curving shaded path encouraging strong roots and wings.
Now approaching eighty years young with less trail ahead, we rest more. Your love, holding the light high as I roam this curving shaded path.
Written for Meet the Bar Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Laura asks us to write a Quatern. That is a poem of 16 lines, divided into 4 quatrains (4 stanzas, each with 4 lines). Each line must have 8 syllables. There must be a repeated refrain that is the first line of stanza 1, the second line of stanza 2, the third line of stanza 3, and the 4th line of stanza 4. Photo from a vacation some years back.
. . . ‘tis a holiday when spring rains refresh the fields when a babe is born into a family of love when a home is infused with the aroma of freshly baked bread when a child chalks a sidewalk hopscotch when peach nectar dribbles down your chin when calloused hands are clasped in repose while the body sits relaxed, belly full, mind at ease. There is a positive sense to the word, most especially when you believe one moment in time can be a holiday if we make it so.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. I’m hosting the pub today. Folks are free to post any one poem of their choosing, OR write to the optional prompt: create a poem that includes the word “holiday” in the body of the poem. Image from Pixabay.com
NOTE: dVerse will be LIVE on Saturday, December 14, from 10 to 11 AM New York time.Click here to find the embedded link that will take you to the LIVE session (audio and video). You’re invited to read a poem of your choosing or just sit in and listen. The more the merrier!
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.
So many questions I could ask myself. Why this? Why that? Why then? Why now? Why not? Why me?
But those sound too much like regrets. I choose to live my life without regrets.
Regrets indicate a desire for change in the past. One change a ripple makes and then,
life would be different somewhere along the path. Life would be different now. I like my now.
Written for day 25 of NaPoWriMo where the prompt is to “write a poem based on the “Proust Questionnaire,” a set of questions drawn from Victorian-era parlor games, and adapted by modern interviewers. You could choose to answer the whole questionnaire, and then write a poem based on your answers, answer just a few, or just write a poem that’s based on the questions.”
have some aches and pains but able to walk and reach dishes on the second shelf. Enjoy a good book sleep beside the love of your life and have family that cares, said the septuagenarian.
To be blessed is to be with your forever family who plays fetch for hours on end, lets you get on the couch with them . . . occasionally, and get kibble treats for just sitting still, said Zoey, the dog.
To be blessed is to enjoy sunshine filtering through your leaves provide shade to a couple’s picnic beneath your branches sport reds and burnt oranges in the autumn season mourn the dropping of leaves and skeleton shivers knowing your resurrection will come next spring, said the seventy-six year old Metasequoia.
Written for Day 5, NaPoWriMo where the prompt is to “try your hand at writing your own poem about how a pair or trio of very different things would perceive of a blessing.” The line “to be blessed” and the idea for my poem is taken from the poem used to illustrate the prompt, “The Blessing of the Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog” by Alicia Ostriker.
*There is indeed a Metasequoia tree planted in the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University in 1948. It is one of the oldest and first of its kind to grow in North America in over two million years according to the City of Boston official website. The photo, however, is of a tree in Boston’s Public Garden taken during an autumn walk several years ago.
Recessed window’s wide ledge holds spirits for drinker’s escape. Time out desperately needed from hatred, tyranny, spewed vindictiveness, misogyny, racism, and lies. Broad brushstrokes have not, cannot hide, underlying malevolence.
Clean canvass craved, painted in meaningful hues. Foundation layer of iridescent justice. Calm cerulean waters governed by tides of crimsoned love. Emerald-kindness speckled shores of honesty. Sun-flowered happiness rollicking beneath cobalt cloudless skies.
Is there a bard to create this script? A Dali, Miro, or Kahlo to produce this surrealism? Who among us will ensure it becomes reality? Human dignity bathed in light, tinted with opalescent caring, glowing in a patina of hope.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting Open Link Night where folks are invited to post any one poem of their choice, no form, rhyme scheme etc. required OR use Van Gogh’s painting, Studio Window, to motivate their creative juices.
AND you are invited to join us LIVE (with audio and video), on Saturday, March 16th from 10 to 11 AM New York time. Simply click here, and then click on the link you’ll find for dVerse LIVE. You’re invited to read a poem of your choosing, or simply come sit in and listen. Drop in for a few minutes or come and stay the hour. Although we’re an international group, all readings and conversations are in English. We’ve had folks from Sweden, the UK, Trinidad Tobago, Finland, Pakistan, the US, Kenya, Australia, and India. I do hope you’ll join us – the more the merrier!
Create barrier islands to keep out hatred, people who lack empathy.
Envelop me in sea breezes that waft smiles.
Let a gentle sun warm and fan kindness among all.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Quadrille Monday! Melissa asks us to include the word “lagoon” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I chose to verbify the word. Photo take in Bermuda in 2018.
Take my hand. Travel with me through starry starry nights to a new place not yet discovered. Not yet befouled by humanity, but still palpable in its existence.
Happiness, serenity, joy, jubilation, celebration, exuberance good works and caring, and most importantly, optimism shall color this world.
All peoples dwelling here shall live within the light. None shall be unseen, unheard, besmirched, assigned to the shadows. If I were to paint this place . . .
it would be spills of pastels and primary hues beginning at the bottom of the canvas and rising until they meld into a crescendo of love.
If you take my hand this day, this hour this moment to embark upon this journey, might others join our endeavor?
Can it only be achieved on a small scale, two people within a cocoon?
Or can we gather together creative spirits of master artists from centuries past? Might they join today’s artists and somehow . . .
paint our dreams into a reality . . . into a place of life and joy and hope for you and me . . . and for the many.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
I’m hosting OLN LIVE at dVerse on Thursday from 3 to 4 PM EST and again on Saturday from 10 to 11 AM EST.
It’s an opportunity to join us via video and audio, to read a poem of your choice and listen as others do the same. OR, just come to sit in if you prefer.
Go to https://dversepoets.com beginning at 3 PM Thursday, EST, and you’ll find a link for Thursday’s LIVE session and one for Saturday – just click on the link and you’ll be with us LIVE!
Image is of course, Starry Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh and is in public domain.
lillian the home poet 