Cairn

I am with you still.

My spirit
embued within the sky
floating midst the clouds
cool mist above rushing waters.

I walked this earth
stacked small rocks
in special places.
I cared.

Grieve not for me,
stand quietly.
Between your steps
feel me still.

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It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. And we begin anew. Week 1 with 43 more to come. Today, Quadrille Week 1, the word to use within our poem is “rock” – or a form of the word. Come join us! A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words…sans title.

Simplicity

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. 

Death Be Eternity

I stand
feet solid upon this earth.
What then
when ashes float
upon ocean’s tide?

What of my spirit
my energy
my soul,
clamoring for release
from embers’ dust?

Shall my essence
melt amongst the stars?
Dissolve into tincture of dawn?
Swirl within some galaxy
unknown to earthly man?

Mingle through generations,
welcome those yet to come?
Somewhere beyond this realm,
somewhere
out there beyond?

Perhaps this earthen home
is but a way station
weighed down by skin and bone,
awaiting release into a dominion
of absolute timelessness.

An otherworldly universe,
glimpsed only by the dreamers,
those who peer
beyond this spatial dwelling place.

A perfect storm of turbulent gases

Photo Credit: ESA/Hubble;  European Space AgencyNASA, and J. Hester (Arizona State University)

Posted for dVerse where I’m delighted to host Tuesday Poetics, asking everyone to look up!  Write a poem inspired by one of four photos, taken and released by the Hubble telescope, included in the prompt. Jump into the photo, imagine its world; write about space or not. Simply be inspired by the image and see where it takes you!

dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

NOTE:  I emailed the Hubble site from which the four available images come. Permission was given for this prompt, providing each poet includes the exact photo credit as listed on the site and thus copied to my prompt. 

 

Thursday’s Prayer

What shall I write this early morn,
when night has barely turned to dawn?

Of hope within my soul,
to see the gull soar past
beyond my window’s pale,
toward ocean’s rhythmic shore.

Of wind chimes’ sound,
their echoes from afar.
Harmonious song
kissed aloft by breezes soft.

Drifting from mind to mouth,
‘tis a prayer upon my lips.
Tears but dew upon my cheek,
I whisper joy-stained words

thankful for every day.

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It’s Open Link Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poetry writers. That means you can post a poem of your choosing — no prompt today. Grace is tending the pub and invites all to stop by!

 

Thank You, Elizabeth

I recognized it.
A little pocket of silence.
I was hiding,
feeling sad and brittle
and about seven thousand years old.

A cause for revolution,
all this swinging.
You wanna see pretty colors?
More razzle dazzle?
Be happy?

Just sit down,
find the balance.
Shut the door.
Cease your relentless participation.
Accept the best I can do.

Just
be.

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Victoria is tending bar at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to do some Erasure Poetry. A new form for me. We choose a book or text and by “erasing words” from it (or an alternative way to say it is by choosing words from it), make up a poem of our own. We cannot add our own words…all words must be from the book or text. Each line in Thank You, Elizabeth is an exact phrase from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love. Punctuation is mine. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Haibun for Geiranger

Floating on a massive cruise ship, some days with ocean on every side as far as the eye can see, I am reminded that about seventy-one percent of the Earth’s surface is water-covered. The ocean makes up about ninety-six percent of that. I am one person among two-thousand-plus, traversing just a portion of these waters on this day, in this place.

Docked in Geiranger, Norway, the fjord rises up around us. We rest at the feet of Mother Earth. Her shawl of earthen tones and greenery spills out from the sea. Her pearlescent snow capped peaks rise far into the sky. Off ship, we feel very very small. A motor coach takes us up a winding road; so steep the bus seems angled in a partial recline position. We stop where snow makes further progress impossible. Spring melt has just begun. Stepping out into fresh, clear, crisp air, we look out and down. Our ship is dwarfed by the mountains. While the ocean occupies more surface space, landmass leads in terms of relief, colors, and grandeur. I stand, a speck amongst generations who have lived before me and those who will live after me, absolutely mesmerized.

winter’s snow-capped peaks
deter footsteps upon the pristine
Seven Sisters wait patiently

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Bjorn hosts Haibun Monday at dVerse today, asking us to write about water. In homage to Bjorn’s Scandinavian roots,  I’m writing about our cruise through the Norwegian fjords. The Seven Sisters are magnificent famous falls in the UNESCO-protected Geiranger fjord. Alas, since the spring melt was just beginning when we were there, five were dry and two were quite small in output. They need the full spring melt to achieve their grandeur.  Photos taken in this magnificent place. The sun was shifting as we were there. Just a gorgeous day!

Tap Dancer’s Advice

Shuffle your troubles away.
Skip through leaves
listen to their rustle.

Hum three songs –
oldies-but-goodies
from your teen-age days.

Or shuffle off to Buffalo.
That’s a tap dance step
or a change in view.

Shuffle you happy,
shuffle me too.
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I figures these days, we can all use a little humor and something to smile at! 🙂  Photo: a number of years ago, the grandkids hiding then popping out in a pile of autumn’s leaves.