In these times . . .

dark clouds gather,
humidity thickens.
Thunder mumbles, then roars
lightning rips through skies.

Slip inside for thine own relief
breathe in thine own security.
Or gather outside ‘neath city lights
take hands in solidarity.

Pray together for soothing rains
to ease this land’s parched soul.
Then work together that all may live
without the threat of storms.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, combining yesterday’s prompt word “slip” and today’s prompt to write a poem that related to rain.

I See Now

It must be the masks.
Most people wear one now.
Not to avoid recognition
while performing some illegal act
like robbery or kidnapping.
Rather to avoid being robbed
or being kidnapped
by Covid-19.

I used to walk down streets
see people but not see them,
hear sounds but not listen to them.
Intent on getting to work
or the store
or the whatever.
I plowed on, looking straight ahead.
No mask. No gloves.

I could have stopped to listen,
hear the blue jay in a nearby tree.
Cracked a smile at passersby.
But I didn’t.
I just plowed ahead
to get to that place,
to that thing I was scheduled to do.
No mask. Just oblivious.

Today I walked to feel fresh air.
Gloved, masked, gasping a bit.
Breathing through a piece of cloth
rubber-banded behind my ears,
only my eyes exposed.
I have nowhere special to go
but I crave being outside.
I need to see people. . .

. . . but not coming too close to me.
In their masks. Worse yet, without them.
I gesture SINGLE FILE
as they come toward me.
I listen for footsteps from behind.
Could be someone coming too close.
Round-trip walk from home,
I decide to stop on the bridge.

Leaning over I take a long look.
See a scene I’ve seen so many times
but not really seen.
Trees along the Charles River.
Water rippling from geese swimming.
And then I see her.
Mama goose upon her nest
staring warily at me.

She moves a bit and hisses.
I see new meaning to an old phrase,
one overused today. Shelter in place.
Cracked eggs beside her,
feathers in her beak,
she shifts her body and just for a moment
I see tiny wriggling masses of yellow
trying to escape from beneath her .

Does my mask make me the interloper?
And still I stare and listen and watch.
It must be these masks affecting me.
Seeing what has always been there,
season after season.
People and nature along my way.
I notice the mundane more
and finally I understand.

It never really was mundane.

April 28 in National Poetry Writing Month where the challenge is to write at least one poem per day. This is my second for today.

This one is written for Toads where we are to choose a quotation or an impression from Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird as the motivation for our poem. I’ve chosen the quotation “People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.”

Video is from our walk this morning. 

You may want to see my other poem, written for dVerse today. It will take you to the Norwegian fjords!

Metamorphosis-19

We emerged from our cocoons,
beautifully.
Heard laughter again
marveled at smiles
touched outstretched hands
reveled in freedom.
And our spirits soared.

2020-04-09 (2)

Day 9: National Poetry Month where the challenge is to write a poem every day in April.

Written for the prompt at Toads We are to use one of the scientific illustrations by Maria Sibylla Merian, artist and naturalist, to motivate our poem. Merian traveled to Suriname in South America in 1699. The trip was sponsored by the city of Amsterdam. Remarkably for the time, Maria traveled with her young daughter, but with no male companion.  In 1705, she published a book about the insect life of Suriname, Metamorphosis Insectorum Surinamensium.  Maria Sibylla Merian was one of the first naturalists to draw insects from direct study. The poem is also written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Frank asks us to write a 7 line poem. No other content or form restrictions. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

And to all my readers, stay safe and stay healthy!

April Fool? Not I.

Follow a meditative path
out of stress, anxiety, and fear.
Open your heart to blessings,
lean into possibilities.
Serenity is after all, ours to achieve.

FullSizeRender-3

It’s National Poetry Month and across the globe, people will take up the challenge to write one poem every day in the month of April. NAPOWRIMO challenges us to write a self portrait about an action that is a part of who we are. Imaginary Garden with Real Toads gives us the word “fool” as a prompt, since it is April 1.

Thus I’ve written an acrostic poem (first letter of each line spells FOOL) about meditation, which I find particularly helpful in these challenging times. Every morning I am on the yoga mat: meditation, stretches – all to wonderful calming Zen-like music. It is a quieting space I deliberately enter into and treasure. It centers me for the day.

Photo taken last summer in Provincetown, Cape Cod.

Prayer for the times . . .

Moonbeams, sunbeams
smile and kindness beams,
prayer beams too.
May we collect and disperse them.
May they touch our hearts
and warm our souls,
as we tiptoe and sometimes hurdle
through these challenging times.

5

Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.  In this crazy world today, where the earth seems to have tipped on its axis and thrown us all into a time of “social distancing” and “shelter in place” orders; closed restaurants and pubs and churches and concert venues; challenged hospitals by surges and a lack of protective wear and ventilators, I offer this small prayer today.

And I am thankful for all health care workers, grocery clerks and pharmacists, truck drivers who are the backbone of our supply chain but cannot find a restaurant open on the highways they are traveling.  I am thankful for dVerse, one of the few pubs in the world staying open through all of this. Hugs are encouraged in this pub…..so to all my readers and dVerse friends, consider yourself hugged today!

After watching the news . . .

if I put on lacy anklets
chalk hopscotch on my sidewalk
tie these grey locks into pigtails
and read Golden Books,
will everything be fun again?

IMG_2803
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. I’m “tending the pub today” and look forward to reading all the posts. Photo taken a few weeks ago at the Corvette Diner in San Diego’s Liberty Station – our waitress’ feet!

Sweet Dreams

Dream suite décor.
Rest upon cumulus pillows
as moonbeam lullaby lulls.
Sprinkled star dust
spreads drowsiness
as deep sleep seeps in.
Spirits soar into everland,
ethereal land of smiles.
Compassion and love live,
bloom in forever springs.
Until we jolt awake,
plopped . . .
into another mundane day.

clouds-4215608_1920
I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics today at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. The topic to consider is dreams / dreaming. Go to the site and listen to some wonderful songs about dreaming (Youtube links) sung by the Everly Brothers, Bobby Darrin, Bing Crosby, and the Mama and Papas. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Hope

Once upon a glimmer,
hope lived.
Moonbeam wisps
and dandelion puffs.
Dew drops on lily pads
and snowflake glisten
on frosted pane.
We watched.
We loved.
We waited.
Hope glimmered
in our evening prayers.

Ali - Dandelion

I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. The prompt is to begin a poem with Once upon a ?????   Writers may add any word except “time.”  So I’ve chosen Once upon a glimmer. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Want Ad

Needed
super heroes
the twenty-four-seven variety.
Requires
kindness, empathy,
a listening ear,
open heart and mind.
Willingness to wear another’s shoes.
Must self-identify with humanity
not gender, race,
ethnicity, education,
or place of origin.
We need you,
now.

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!

Elixir

Can you recall her?
Elfin sprite, youthful innocence.

Sipped happiness
from rose petals tipped toward sun.
Turned acorn crowns upside down
savoring drops of morning dew.
Danced with snowflakes
tasting cold on outstretched tongue.

Cup your wizened hands
‘neath steady drizzling rain.
Raise them to cracked lips
eyes closed, sip deeply.
Recapture hope.

white-rose-2907862_1920

Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics where Paul asks us to pen a poem about “drinking”; being as creative as we wish with the word.