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!
Listen to the glisten,
can you hear it?
stars in scrim of night
luminous path upon the seas
smiling shining eyes
dancing sun in forest leaves
Gaze deeply and calm your soul.
Photo taken some years ago while camping in Mr. Rainier National Park.
Drizzle stardust
sunflower seed
toddler kisses
crimson leaves
and hummingbird wings.
Deluge of delights.
Photo taken in Provincetown some years ago.
occasional words
occasionally said
like unexpected visitors
they just appear
at your doorstep
in your mind
or in your throat
until that day
that October 14th
that 10:40 AM
since then
same words
every morning
every night
many inbetweens
you beside me
walking, in our bed
sitting near, standing there
same words always said
in my heart and in my head
thankful for every day
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.
We gaze, mesmerized.
Porous limestone,
misshaped craggy towers
wind and brine carved.
Seas rise and fall
pulsate with teeming life.
We embrace, knowing.
Stainless steel lies within,
raises stitchmarked skin.
Tethered by wires
your heart rises and falls,
life beneath the seam.
Photo from February, at Tobacco Bay in St George, Bermuda.
I have these dance shoes
full size, my size now
taps on soles like woodpecker nose
silenced in a drawer.
Could make loud flaps
not with wings but toes
not on trees but floors
shuffle off to buffalo
make myself be known.
Had smaller ones years ago
noisy kid on taps on tap
poured out energy bar none
little girl was big out there
brave feet shushed by none.
Maybe I should tap again.
Written for Holly Wren Spaulding’s class. Prompt: “free yourself from the standard rules of English syntax” and perhaps also write about something that could have another meaning. Two ways to read to my post today: 1) read only the lines that are not indented to find the poem within the poem; and 2) read the entire thing. As the phrase goes, popularized when Senator Elizabeth Warren was silenced in a congressional hearing not so long ago, “She persisted.” (We shall not be shushed.) For the non-tap dancers: a flap is a tap step, as is the shuffle-off-to-buffalo. And yes, those are my shoes in my drawer and yes, that’s me many many many years ago! Shared with dVerse where today is open link time – meaning anyone can share one poem with dVerse readers – the virtual pub for poets across the globe. Come post your own or imbibe some words! Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
Were you waiting for me?
Back corner of her studio, smiling
gathering dust midst jewelry displays
shadow boxed art.
Did you jiggle a bit?
Swing your beaded cord braids
glint a wink from googly metal eyes.
Functional Art the sign said.
Amalgamation of discards
someone’s this and something’s that.
Old charms (you do), hair fobs
paintbrush skirt and flower heart
forever wire smile.
You caught my eye that day
and here you are with me
forever now my muse.
Written for prompt in my online poetry class with Holly Wren Spaulding. We are to write a poem of address – as in addressing someone or something. This is a wonderful piece of art work entitled Growing My Garden by Nahed Enid: bought at Nahed’s studio in at the Dockyards in Bermuda. She makes me smile every morning as I sit to write and read.
Blueprints in a cacophony of color
design my living loving house.
Angleless corners round flowing rooms,
textured floors pad souls on soleless feet.
One winding willow tree, rooted in love
grows up through every floor.
Climbs beyond skylight so all will see,
budding tiara atop our greening roof.
Two forms of light magically illuminate.
I-believe-claps activate sun in every space.
Twinkle twinkle little star releases scrim,
sparkles day dreams, night time’s too.
Inside is outside in my paneless house.
Plantings nourished from within,
grow and bloom beyond the sash.
Our family lives with open doors
and all are welcome here.
Sara hosts Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. She asks us to build a house within a poem. My imaginary house is influenced by seeing the Hundertwasser House in Vienna many years ago. Friedensreich Hundertwasser, Vienna artist and architect, 1928 – 2000. Painting on top left is Hundertwasser House in Moonlight, color lithograph based on the original by Karl Goldammer, 1995. Photo on right is the actual Hundertwasser House, public housing on the corner of Lowengasse / Kegelgasse, Vienna. Third image is his painting: The 30 Days Fax Painting, 1994 and gives you a sense of his style as a painter. He defied the straight line and believed in the poetic quality of inhabited space: irregular alignments of windows, the spatial integration of trees and wavy lines in his urban plans. Uneven floors and undulating rough cast walls, tree-roofs, bearded windows, and tree tenants were features of his architecture.
Sun struggles behind shrouded sky.
Three rays burst through darkness,
beacons that proclaim
there shall be hope this day.
Photo taken at dawn from deck of our rented apartment in Bermuda. No filters – no photoshopping. It was truly glorious.
lillian the home poet 