some days
it seems a stick figure world
sketched in
lines only
charcoal lines
no curves
no tints of color
no punctuation
negation
no positivity
stuck motionless
mural of ethnocentrism
narcissistic me-ism
artists and poets needed
to add crimson hearts
splashes of love
everywhere
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish asks us to include the word “sketch” or a form of the word, in our Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words sans title).
As the sun sets on this day
may we pray to remember
the good that surrounds us,
the good that can be.
Help us to find our way
to a kinder world.
May each of us
contemplate sameness.
Our sameness. Our humanity.
May leaders from all countries
all religions, all ethnicities,
strive for gentle caring.
May we look in the mirror
eyes and hearts open,
and find each other.
Written today for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. In today’s world, with so much strife, division, and warring factions, I thought it important to offer this prayer.
dVerse will go live today from 3 to 4 PM EST. Folks from around the globe are invited to post a poem and read it aloud or simply to come and listen. A link will be provided at 3 PM EST HERE to join us on video and audio for one hour. We will do the same on Saturday morning from 10 to 11 AM EST. Would love to have you join us. The more the merrier!
Photo from sunset in San Diego some years ago. The photo feels peaceful and serene to me….and somehow the sun and the rolling hills in the background remind me of hope for a new day.
There are moments in life
standing in the glory of nature
when I’ve been awestruck.
Humbled by her magnificence
at the Grand Canyon,
Norwegian fjords,
and Mount Fuji.
And once,
under whispering tall pines,
I felt the sun’s rays of grace
shine upon me.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De asks us to use the word “pine” or a form of the word, in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
Yes, in our travels we’ve been to the magnificent Grand Canyon, the Norwegian Fjords, and to Japan where we saw Mount Fuji. Photo is from about ten years ago when we were camping with our children and their children, in Mount Rainier National Park.
Take my hand. Travel with me
through starry starry nights
to a new place not yet discovered.
Not yet befouled by humanity,
but still palpable in its existence.
Happiness, serenity, joy,
jubilation, celebration, exuberance
good works and caring,
and most importantly,
optimism shall color this world.
All peoples dwelling here
shall live within the light.
None shall be unseen, unheard,
besmirched, assigned to the shadows.
If I were to paint this place . . .
it would be spills of pastels
and primary hues
beginning at the bottom of the canvas
and rising until they meld
into a crescendo of love.
If you take my hand this day,
this hour
this moment
to embark upon this journey,
might others join our endeavor?
Can it only be achieved on a small scale,
two people within a cocoon?
Or can we gather together
creative spirits of master artists
from centuries past?
Might they join today’s artists
and somehow . . .
paint our dreams into a reality . . .
into a place of life
and joy and hope
for you and me . . .
and for the many.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
I’m hosting OLN LIVE at dVerse on Thursday from 3 to 4 PM EST and again on Saturday from 10 to 11 AM EST.
It’s an opportunity to join us via video and audio, to read a poem of your choice and listen as others do the same. OR, just come to sit in if you prefer.
Go to https://dversepoets.com beginning at 3 PM Thursday, EST, and you’ll find a link for Thursday’s LIVE session and one for Saturday – just click on the link and you’ll be with us LIVE!
Image is of course, Starry Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh and is in public domain.
Runt of the litter
shoved out of the way,
last in the romping puppy play.
Some day she thought,
I’ll be as big as you.
And if I’m not,
I’ll shine in another way.
It’s Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sanaa asks us to consider peer pressure.
Image from Pixabay.com
I promise you, there is beauty somewhere.
Stand quietly outside to hear birdsong.
See stars shine in the ebony of night.
Hear the innocence of a small child’s prayer.
Marvel at harmony in evensong.
Your freedom as a right, shines ever bright.
In our war, even as lives are taken
there is pride, resolve, purpose in the fight.
One newborn who survives shines hope ‘ere long.
The world’s sense of justice shall awaken.
Help us.
First and foremost, the illustration is titled Freedom and is painted by Ukranian artist, Vika Muse. This past Tuesday, she gave permission for dVerse Poets to feature her artwork and write poems inspired by them.
Vika Muse wrote about another of her paintings, The Air of Freedom, “I wish I could have manta rays in the sky…instead of Russian bombs and military airplanes. I’ve noticed that my disturbing paintings didn’t make me happier. They cause even deeper depression. So I’ve tried to draw my future. It is bright and sunny. There are no bombs and war…Only beautiful landscapes and dreamlike sky. I hope I’ll meet such a future some day.”
Vika Muse says this about Freedom, the painting that inspired my poem today: “This artwork was made due to the hope, that we have the light at the end and the name of this light – is the Victory. That we will survive and rebuild our country.”
You can find artwork by Vika Muse at @get.muse and http://www.inprnt.com
And a thank-you to Mish at dVerse for discovering this artist so we can all see and marvel at her wonderful work.
Today’s post was specifically written for NAPOWRIMO, Day 16. We are asked to write a Curtal Sonnet, a poetry form invented by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
A Curtal Sonnet is 11 lines (actually 10.5) which is precisely 3/4 of the structure of a Petrachan sonnet which is 14 lines in length. That is, it is shrunk proportionally. The rhyme scheme is abcabc dcbdc The final line is a tail or half line. Another, what I call, sudoku prompt!
I’ve taken poetic license because of the intensity of the poem, to ignore the final line’s “c” rhyme requirement, but it is the requisite 2 syllables. The other lines are all the requisite 10 syllables.
Society’s expectations?
She doesn’t give two hoots
about being who she’s not.
It’s taken her a while to get there,
seven decades to be exact.
Wrinkle creams and hair dye be damned.
She wears flat shoes on every occasion,
air-dries her hair in all its grey glory
and orders dessert, which is mandatory.
Happily sleeveless when it’s hot,
just stare if you dare at her crepe-like skin
and notice her knees with those very high hems.
Stereotypical sayings are bantered about,
she’s older and wiser and been round the block
but look at her now as she picks her own route.
Written for NAPOWRIMO, Day 15.
Today we’re asked to “write a poem about something you have absolutely no interest in.”
We’re invited “to investigate some of the ‘why’ behind resolutely not giving two hoots about something.”
Although my poem is written in third person, this is how I feel at seventy-five.
The second half of joy is shorter than the first.
Emily Dickinson
everyday a gift
wildflowers along the road –
snow falls silently
Written for the NAPOWRIMO prompt given the day before National Poetry Writing Month begins. We are to respond to one of Emily Dickinson’s lines of poetry. Several are provided or we may choose our own.
Also will appear at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is OLN: Open Link Night. Ingrid is hosting and we may post any one poem of our choosing. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
NAPOWRIMO begins officially tomorrow. April is National Poetry Writing Month and the challenge is to write a poem every day of the month.
Photo is from our trip to Ireland a number of years ago.
Some days are sum daze.
Blahs drop in
clock ticks on
knees creak
clouds seep in
wallows win.
Sun days are better.
Basking in bright
morning and night.
Safe, sheltered, fed.
Blue veined hands
pick daffodils in spring.
What spirits roam this earth?
Moon gods no longer constant
fatigued by cloud-strung battles,
wax and wane their beams.
Seasons test the sun,
warmth succumbs to winter gales.
Spirits gone these many years
hover o’er our heads.
Their whispers ride the winds.
Arise my children, each day sublime,
whether warm or cold or dark or light,
reach out, touch hands, and dance.
Smile hope upon your neighbors
be they far or near.
Smile hope upon your loved ones
be they on earth,
or in the heavenly sphere.
All gaze upon the same bright stars.
Love this day together, my children,
for I am with you as they are too.
Greet each day sublime,
hearts flush with gratitude, no fear.
Listen for their whispers
they are always there to hear.
Image by freepik.com
lillian the home poet 