Glendalough…

…thy voice speaks to me.

Rolling hills of green
ancient Celtic cross
sixth century monastic ruins.

Paths echo medieval prayer
parlay murmurs of buried souls
stones tipped and etched by time.

I tread lightly through hallowed ground
savor the quiet of this place.
Glendalough, thou art a soothing song.





Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Mish prompts us to write of an abstract thing (I chose serenity) using sensory description. Photos: Glendalough, Ireland, the valley of the two lakes renowned for its Early Medieval monastic settlement founded by St Kevin in the 6th century. We opted for an excursion that took us into the countryside, outside of Dublin, rather than a city or pub tour. This is a truly beautiful and mystical place.

Traveler’s Guide

Sow seeds of beauty as you travel earth.
Mirror the sun.
Shine kindness upon frozen souls,
splash colors brightly.
Climb as the ivy does,
each dawn higher,
each morn basking in hope.




Written for dVerse where Bj√∂rn hosts, asking us to write about soil/earth. Photos: Norwegian fjords; gardens in Blarney Village (Ireland); house in Kinsale, Ireland; dawn from the deck of our cruise ship on our way to Dublin. Final photo taken in midst of Norwegian fjords fascinates me — note the shadow of mountains on the mountain — looks like a face!

Lysefjord

Echos of light reflect rugged beauty.
Silent walls of rock carved by glaciers,
mirror themselves in ancient seas.

We sail, necks craned,
staring, gaping in awe.

Awareness dawns
in setting sun.

We are but specks
on the scales of time.

       

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where Monday’s quadrille (4o word poem, no more no less) prompt is to include the word echo within our poem. Photos from recent Norwegian Fjords cruise. 

Norwegian Fjords

Frosted in snow
gouged by ridges and crevasses
steep sentinels of time.

Tall giants anchored deep in sea
warmed by kinder sun as days extend,
they shed their winter cloak
rushing waterfalls from heights on high.

Simple homesteads perch on ledges
steep paths above cold waters.
Historical remnants,
they housed rugged folk.
Those who dared to live and love
within the soul of Norway’s fjords.



Photos while in Geirangerfjord, Norway. Absolutely stunning to see! 

The Shadow Knows

There are places and times for pure childlike delight.

We’d been through a stressful year. Death hovered too close to our family. Through the miracles of modern medicine, assisted by angels along the way, we survived. And so we ferried in September to our beloved Provincetown at the very tip of Cape Cod. We walked for miles at water’s edge, marveling at the vast ocean. Our mortal footprints disappeared as the tide returned to shore. We witnessed new dawns. Gazed at a glistening moon path on darkest nights. It was a time of contemplation and somber thankful prayers. 

Until that early morn. Standing in the cool sand, my shadow elongated before me. Cast like a circus lady on stilts. Like mirrors where clowns stretch tall or wide. Magnified to the absurd. And it birthed a smile. And then a chuckle. And then a laugh. Pure childlike delight far beyond my years. And it felt good. 

owls perch and observe
cows chew their cud in solemnity 
spring lambs frolic free


It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and Toni asks us to write about shadows. Any kind of shadows. A Haibun includes one or two paragraphs of prose and it cannot be fiction. The prose is followed by a haiku (3 lines with syllable counts of approximately 5, 7, 5). Haikus are about nature and include a seasonal word. Photo is my shadow in Provincetown.