We walk quietly through hushed forest. Tree tops shimmer-emerald in bright sun. Shaded lower branches, more soft-hued green.
Leaves wave in gentle wind. Sunray flickers through foliage, forms mosaic patterns upon our faces, upon our soft smiles.
We slowly walk deeper into calm. Birch trees, conifers, cypress, scent of damp pines. Ancient sentinels of passing time.
Powerful strength towers above as delicate ferns and wildflowers thrive in earth beside our feet. We revel in balance before our eyes.
In the midst of raw beauty, we embrace. Feel strength course through our beings. We will be back again and again, witness to the healing of this place.
Dedicated to Rob and Kathy. Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Today, from 3 to 4 PM EST, poets from around the globe will meet LIVE, wth video and audio, to read aloud one poem of their choice, to visit with each other and lend their support to the creative endeavors of all. Come join us HERE and then click on the link provided for Thursday’s live session!
Can’t join us on Thursday?
We’ll meet again LIVE on Saturday, from 10 to 11 AM EST. Join us HERE and then click on the link provided for Saturday’s gathering!
October 19, 2013. We walked across the street from Mass. General Hospital into a new life. My question: Is there always darkness before light? Night skies before the dawn. In utero before light at the end of the birth canal. Sleep before the alarm sounds. Death before new life.
Six minutes minus a heart beat. Thirty-six hours of induced comatose state. You suspended somewhere; eyes shut, machines whirring. Me existing in light which felt like the darkest of times.
You returned to us and the morning sun. Five days later, we walked home. Six years later, we are together still. Thankful for every day.
dark in chrysalis
strength builds, body renewing
life’s splendor springs forth
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Bjorn is hosting Haibun Monday and asks us to write about new beginnings. Haibun: 2 to 3 tight paragraphs of prose (must be true) followed by a haiku. The condominium building we live in is actually located directly across from the main campus of Massachusetts General Hospital.
Like a peregrine
caught in a tailspin,
to find calm within.
To escape the din,
seeks his lover’s inn.
Ah sweet nest of skin,
Form of poem is a Lai: nine-line stanza with syllabic and rhyme requirements as follows:
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 syllabkes, rhymes with a
line 8: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 9: 2 syllablesm rhymes with b
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.
Photo from pixabay.com
the twenty-four-seven variety.
a listening ear,
open heart and mind.
Willingness to wear another’s shoes.
Must self-identify with humanity
not gender, race,
or place of origin.
We need you,
I’m hosting dVerse today and asking folks to think about the words “super hero” and “super power(s)” and write a poem that is somehow related to or motivated by those words. The words themselves may or may not be in the poem. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come on over to read some super posts!
Slip on spectacles;
do not seek spectacles.
Seek slightly furrowed brows
tear drops forming in their duct
delicate veins on clover leaf
cloud wisps tinctured in palest pink
puddled reflection of toddler’s yellow boot
catsup melding into whole wheat bread
smiles of mirth ‘neath crinkled eyes.
Slip on spectacles to see the good.
In the spirit of the poem, no photo or illustration included.
Motivated by a prompt from Holly Wren Spauldings online class…a list poem.
She stood outside the car, the driver impatiently snacking on pistachio nuts inside. The waiting seemed interminable. She’d come so far for this moment. Found the certificate stuffed in her mother’s journal. Attended the funeral, dry-eyed, in shock. This was her destiny. Would he recognize it as his?
How could a name inscribed on a document, assume fatherhood after a lifetime in absentia? She held the document in shaking hands, ready to show him the proof. She could see the trail of dust far down the road, kicked up by the approaching vehicle. A new reality was about to materialize.
Written for Friday Fictioneers where the talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields poses a photo prompt each week. Classified by some as “flash fiction” we are to limit our text to 100 words or less. Word Count here = 100Photo Credit: Kent Bonham
Come roundabout with me.
January then January,
again and again.
Hours one to twelve repeat
add A to M or change to P.
Teeter up must teeter down
hinged to teeter up again.
Perennials are as annuals will.
Your hands are theirs and ours
to fold, to point, to plant and pray.
Stones cast upon the waters
ripple out toward the morrow.
Time copulates where we are
and when we’re not.
I am. You are. We are will be
small arcs within the world
go roundabout with thee.