Stars and stripes ripple in the breeze,
spirits from thousands past
breathing life into those folds of cloth.
The lone sound of Taps cuts through crisp air
bearing witness to their sacrifice,
the price they willingly paid
that we might live in freedom’s path.
Bjorn is tending the bar today at dVerse Poets’ Pub and asks us to write a quadrille (44 words) using the word “breeze.” Taps is a slow haunting melody, traditionally performed by a lone bugler, at military funerals and ceremonies. Today, May 30, 2016 is Memorial Day in the USA – a day on which we honor those patriots who died serving our country; and give thanks to all veterans who have served or are serving today.
Once,
I wished
on a star.
Another time
a four leaf clover.
Eyes squeezed shut, breath held tight
twenty-one birthday candles
blown out from one huge sucked in puff.
But I’ve come to learn as I grow old,
it’s not in the wishing that dreams come true.
Written for dVerse Poet’s Pub. Today, Victoria asks us to write an etheree, shaped by syllabic lines from 1 to 10. First line 1 syllable, second line 2 syllables, third line 3 syllables etc. up to the tenth line of 10 syllables. Quite fun to do!
Oh ye of jaded belief,
walk these greening woods
and you shall see the signs.
Mushroom thrones beside
fiddlehead playground slides.
Muhly grass, pink pillow puffs
placed ‘neath frills of ferns.
Look with open heart
and you shall find,
the fairy sprites of yore.
A quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse Poet’s Pub where Grace asks us to use the word “green” within our poem. Photos from various hikes we’ve taken.
Sit and be still with me.
This quiet bench beside daffodils
ruffle-edged tulips and hyacinth.
Savor sun as do these flowers of spring.
Memories seared in my mind.
Sharing dreams of spring
‘neath comforter of down,
lifted up by love to sound of song.
Seasons’ promise from death to life,
blooms of rebirth near my feet.
I cry out loud so silently,
my questions float upon the breeze.
Why can’t my love return to me?
Your body too deep to feel this sun,
craves warmth from mine, a simple plea,
to sit and be, still with me.
Photo taken this morning. Spring abounds in the beautiful grounds around our condo building in the city. Written for Open Link Night at the dVerse Poets’ Pub. If you’ve not come for a visit, drop on by and meet some of these amazing writers – or post a poem of your own. The more the merrier at a virtual pub!
Intruders are we
amongst orange-red hoodoos.
Otherworldly creatures,
knobby limestone
eroded by wind and rain,
guarding slot canyons
and plateau rims.
We tread silently,
specks of time
wandering through your midst.
Written for dVerse — prompting us to write poetry about the SouthWest USA. Photos are from a trip in 20013 to Bryce Canyon. A magical place indeed.
The sky is aglow this morn.
Floating quilt of primary colors
myriad shapes and sizes
blankets the bright blue overhead.
Row by row, baskets peopled
by those akin with adventure
fires stoked, ropes cut, they rise
to gas gusting sounds and cheers.
And we are left behind
we who stood the ground
arid browns and taupes,
dry earth and tumble weeds.
Thermos empty, dusty mouth
a vague sense of wish-I-was-there
mind dulled with lack of sleep
I crane my neck again
and wonder,
why am I here
and they are out there
soaring with their dreams.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, hosted by Mish. She asks us to write a poem related to the Southwest — and she has strong ties to New Mexico. A number of years ago I was in Albuquerque, New Mexico for the hot air balloon festival. I went out before dawn and helped folks with their balloons, readying them for flight. Watched as wave after wave of balloons fired up and lifted into the sky. An amazing sight indeed.
most of the world is time when we’re not here, not born yet, or died –
I am infinitesimally small.
Those who knew me at birth
cared for me, walked with me,
left this earth too soon by my count,
melded into the universe.
The sun however,
still shines upon me
although days are shorter
and final miles fewer.
At my back,
the sun projects my future,
step by step in front of me
a syncopated seer.
Shadowed possibilities
become realities,
one foot forward
into the new.
In front of me
she warms my face
till glances backward
see my past,
following me,
stepping where I was
but a moment before,
a speck of time
a dab of humanistic paint
upon a pointillist canvas,
soon to intersect
with those before my time.
Written for dVerse Tuesday Poetics. We are to respond to a poet in dVerse, or a poet of our choice. We may or may not use an actual line from their poem. The first line here is from Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine by Mary Oliver. In Response to Mary Oliver [2] is two because when I started writing poetry in February 2015, my first attempt was a response to another poem by Mary Oliver — rewritten in January 2016. I enjoy her writing — and she is a kindred spirit in terms of being a Massachusetts resident from Provincetown, where we spend two glorious weeks each fall. Today is also used for NaPowWriMo Day 26.
O ye daughters and sons of liberty,
these stairs do creak
neath the weight of history’s tale.
Paul Revere didst wait that eve
to see the revolution’s wick,
waving light from Old North’s spire.
Two lanterns carried high
two horsemen urged on with alarm,
signals all to freedom’s dreams.
Gather ye now and every year,
honor patriots of battles past
and those who hero now.
Raising voices strong
in songs of country’s pride,
our enduring land of liberty.
A “folk poem” for dVerse. Written April 18, 2016, exactly 241 years after the occasion immortalized in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. The Lantern Ceremony has been held for the past 139 years at Boston’s Old North Church, an active Episcopal congregation to this day. Paul Revere was a member and arranged for the sexton Robert Newman and vestryman, Captain John Pulling Jr., to climb the steeple stairs pictured here and signal with two lanterns, if the British were approaching by the Charles River. This sparked Paul Revere’s infamous ride to warn militia and ultimately, the first shots of the American Revolution. Also counting as NaPoWriMo Day 19.
Photos: my spouse climbing the steeple’s stairs at Old North. We are fortunate to be members of this historical church and attended the April 18, 2016 Lantern Ceremony: fife and drum corps, historical reenactment, recitation of Longfellow’s poem, a featured speaker, lighting of two lanterns at the altar. The lanterns are then processed through the church and carried up the steeple as they were that night. The ceremony concludes with the singing of America and America the Beautiful. I can truly say it is a magnificent evening — for me, more moving and inspirational than the 4th of July. And I love the 4th of July! If you’re ever in Boston on April 18th, I urge you to get tickets in advance and attend! Last photo is taken from Copps Hill after the ceremony last week.
Videos: Both from the 2015 ceremony — they are always similar except for the featured speaker and those honored to be the lantern bearers up the steeple. The first is from outside the church. The second (church is lit by candlelight and this is an amateur video so it is somewhat dark) shows the rousing conclusion of the ceremony — with just the first verse of America — all verses are sung.
Sing
out
this psalm.
Faith is bold
in voiced melody,
a joyful noise unto the Lord.
For we are humble in means and raucous in belief,
sing praises now and forever.
We are one in prayer
one in voice.
We hope
trust
love.
We
believe
in power,
the healing divine.
In our hands the tools, the science
in yours the guidance, the wisdom, all spirit and love.
Your miracles walk among us
and we are grateful.
Sing boldly
unto
the
Lord.
This is a Fibonacci Spiral Poem. Both the number of lines and the number of syllables for each line are dictated by the form. The poem is meant to be centered in presentation. Written for day 16 NaPoWriMo. Dedicated to Louise, Tom and Carol; and in thanksgiving for every day. The photo is from a beautiful church in Tallin – taken on our Baltic Cruise several years ago.
Ask your mom.
Life is not a struggle. It’s a wiggle.
It could be better, but it’s good enough
Sometimes you just need to lay on the floor.
Ask your mom.
Day 13’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem from those little slips we find in fortune cookies . Loved this prompt! Each line here is from a fortune cookie image search 🙂
Bjorn is tending the bar today at dVerse Poets’ Pub and asks us to write a quadrille (44 words) using the word “breeze.” Taps is a slow haunting melody, traditionally performed by a lone bugler, at military funerals and ceremonies. Today, May 30, 2016 is Memorial Day in the USA – a day on which we honor those patriots who died serving our country; and give thanks to all veterans who have served or are serving today.
lillian the home poet 