Hazy my day.
Soften sun behind billowing clouds,
flirting lazily in muted blue skies.
Hush talking heads, muffle traffic,
muzzle nearby barking dogs.
Pianissimo please.
Doze me ‘neath birch tree leaves,
rustled by honeysuckle breeze.
Calm my spirit,
nirvana me.
“Hazy” is my May word prompt from my granddaughter, Stella.
Introduction first : this poem is written by my 10 year old granddaughter, Stella Hallberg. She and I are sharing monthly prompts – for April, I sent her the word “glisten.” She could use any variation on the word. There are no edits here. This is what she wrote.
Backyard Wonders
I slip outdoors
left foot, right
sounds, sensations, engulfing me,
taking me far from my bustling home
into the undergrowth and brush.
The birds make thousands of different peeps
in a language not known among men.
The sunlight filters in through the trees
glistening like magic everywhere I look.
Gazing up I see the butterflies
seizing their chance in the spot light
forever free
to be stars in their hearts.
Listen to the glisten,
can you hear it?
stars in scrim of night
luminous path upon the seas
smiling shining eyes
dancing sun in forest leaves
Gaze deeply and calm your soul.
Photo taken some years ago while camping in Mr. Rainier National Park.
Drizzle stardust
sunflower seed
toddler kisses
crimson leaves
and hummingbird wings.
Deluge of delights.
Photo taken in Provincetown some years ago.
Were you waiting for me?
Back corner of her studio, smiling
gathering dust midst jewelry displays
shadow boxed art.
Did you jiggle a bit?
Swing your beaded cord braids
glint a wink from googly metal eyes.
Functional Art the sign said.
Amalgamation of discards
someone’s this and something’s that.
Old charms (you do), hair fobs
paintbrush skirt and flower heart
forever wire smile.
You caught my eye that day
and here you are with me
forever now my muse.
Written for prompt in my online poetry class with Holly Wren Spaulding. We are to write a poem of address – as in addressing someone or something. This is a wonderful piece of art work entitled Growing My Garden by Nahed Enid: bought at Nahed’s studio in at the Dockyards in Bermuda. She makes me smile every morning as I sit to write and read.
Blueprints in a cacophony of color
design my living loving house.
Angleless corners round flowing rooms,
textured floors pad souls on soleless feet.
One winding willow tree, rooted in love
grows up through every floor.
Climbs beyond skylight so all will see,
budding tiara atop our greening roof.
Two forms of light magically illuminate.
I-believe-claps activate sun in every space.
Twinkle twinkle little star releases scrim,
sparkles day dreams, night time’s too.
Inside is outside in my paneless house.
Plantings nourished from within,
grow and bloom beyond the sash.
Our family lives with open doors
and all are welcome here.
Sara hosts Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to build a house within a poem. My imaginary house is influenced by seeing the Hundertwasser House in Vienna many years ago. Friedensreich Hundertwasser, Vienna artist and architect, 1928 – 2000. Painting on top left is Hundertwasser House in Moonlight, color lithograph based on the original by Karl Goldammer, 1995. Photo on right is the actual Hundertwasser House, public housing on the corner of Lowengasse / Kegelgasse, Vienna. Third image is his painting: The 30 Days Fax Painting, 1994 and gives you a sense of his style as a painter. He defied the straight line and believed in the poetic quality of inhabited space: irregular alignments of windows, the spatial integration of trees and wavy lines in his urban plans. Uneven floors and undulating rough cast walls, tree-roofs, bearded windows, and tree tenants were features of his architecture.
I.
sprigs of green peek out
crocus, tulips, daffodils
ready to spring forth
II.
shedding winter coats
pregnant bellies everywhere
spring phenomenon
III.
lily pad squatter
spring-like legs tense, eyes take aim
SPLAT, misjudged its mark
he of geology
she of high kick dreams.
Rocked
dance floors
canyon walls
little ones
and little one’s little ones.
Unfinished, aged patina,
we rock on.
Yarnalicious.
Blueberry, ripe plum
lemony snazzle yellow
pinkorange sherbet.
I touch and squeeze,
trying to decide.
Crimson me
solitary vibrant leaf
bright among the detritus of fall
Crimson me
rising sun ‘neath lone streak of cloud
splashing daylight into roiling ocean’s blue
Crimson me
hand-tied twisted rambling tail
flying high with diamond kite in sky
Crimson me
red rose beribboned bright
silent love song from stoic gone rogue
Palette of smudged pastels and oils
color me in life’s brightest hue
more than a blush, a sheen
I choose patina
to shine, to soar, to sing
I choose to live in love
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Victoria is tending bar today and reminds us how important the role of repetition is in our lives. As it can be in poetry. So today we write using repetition – a phrase, a line; a sound or a syllable within a line or stanza.
Photos are from Bermuda and Cape Cod, except for the rose which is in public domain. B
lillian the home poet 