sunrise red softens
sky stains blur gorgeous pastels
tint sea pearly-pink
curmudgeon sea gull
squawking, scolding, guarding catch
flaps wings, screaming MINE
stealthy no more, gulls swoop in
garnet red sunset
crimson canopy save gull
streaking across sky
Photos from the past two weeks in Provincetown….all as seen from the deck of our annual rental. No photo-shopping….these are the real colors as we saw them.
Ptown, at the very tip of Cape Cod, has been a muse for many an artist as well as literary giants including Mary Oliver, Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, Norman Mailer, Eugene O’Neill, and John Dos Passos.
Layers of putty grey clouds hover on the horizon. Empty masts jut upward from small boats bobbing in waking waves.
Look right: off in the distance, pale blue sky meets roof tops of white clapboard buildings; the town, a twenty-minute walk away. Look left: eyes squint as water glitter-gleams. The sun appears then disappears, valiantly trying to break through slow moving, darkening clouds. A lone gull perched on jetty’s peak, preens itself then sits, nature so statuesque, as waves slap against stone, lap into shore.
Morning pauses, weather waits . . . deciding on its temperament for the day.
early September ~
dalliance between summer
and crisp autumn days
Posted to dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Frank asks us to write a poem that includes descriptive detail.
My haibun (prose followed by a traditional haiku that includes a seasonal reference) is about what I saw this morning, sitting on the deck of our annual two-week rental in Provincetown. Photos document the view! Provincetown is at the very tip end of Cape Cod.
Wooooshhhh . . .
wooooshhhh . . .
waves sweep in,
rhythmic oceanic refrain.
Sun glittered ripple-path
narrow at shore,
widens to horizon by risen sun.
Solitary floating cormorant
stretches sleek neck,
floats . . . then dives under,
resurfaces yards away.
in the nick of time,
news cycle left behind.
It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Prompt word for today is “nick”. It must be used within the body of a poem that is exactly 44 words in length, sans title.
Photo from yesterday morning — sitting on the deck enjoying our beloved Provincetown…at the very tip of Cape Cod – just beginning our two week respite here.
serene me, lull me
autumn morn in Provincetown
ocean sings its song
Just beginning our annual two weeks in our beloved Provincetown.
Shhh . . .
thru stately trees
green glistening fronds.
Inhale. Breathe in deeply.
Fresh woods’ scent fills lungs.
Eyes shut, listen to forest sounds.
Birds sing, scamper, dart overhead.
Shrubs swish softly as critters scamper.
I’m hosting Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the vitual pub for poets. The challenge is to write a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. The poem must include the word “tranquility” (or a form of the word) within the body of the poem. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Did you know, according to a British Council’s survey of 40,000+ people from 102 nonEnglish speaking countries, “tranquility” is the tenth most beautiful word in the English language?
Photo taken on our visit a number of years ago to the Crosley Estate in Cincinatti, Ohio.
Ethereal threads glimmer in sun,
cling leaf to leaf.
Wisps of the past,
displayed on tables
ready for yard sale.
admire the spinning,
Gray matter cobwebs,
Disturbed cluttered thoughts
provoked by age,
exasperated by twenty-four-seven news.
We are family,
not by blood lines but by love –
come walk among the pine.
Steps slow, lighten, whisper quiet.
Meandering deep into the balm,
worries lessen, shedding stress
through leaf-canopied sieve
Shoulders relax. Breath softens.
Warm leaf-filtered sun
soothes like salve to wound.
Some call it forest bathing,
immersion in the ever green.
I call it serenity divine.
Photo: 100 years ago this large forest was planted in Tokyo with the idea of simply letting it grow naturally within the city. It was planted with the express purpose of later constructing a shrine within the woods, dedicated to the first emperor who, by action of the then shogun, transferred power from shogun to emperor, thus establishing a new type of government for Japan. It is truly a serene and beautiful place. Although much much newer than any of the other shrine and sacred places we’ve seen, I found this to be the most beautiful setting.
My moon-blown dreams flutter flit.
‘Tis but water-spoken words
afloat in tide-looped waves,
gently wending their way
wave-seeping through my synapses.
Meanderments that mesmerize,
a ringed-sea within my mind.
Islands seemingly afloat
shimmer on reflection,
from dews of storm-clad life.
I seem to levitate
hover somewhere, not here.
No sound but water-softness,
lapping as if heaven-circling.
Eyes stair cross waters,
climb surreal to starry scrim.
Leaning against ship’s rail,
all railings retreat to insignificance.
Serenity lives upon the seas.
For April 16 Poetics….hosted by guest Laura Bloomsbury. Motivated by her prompt and our current journey, cruising through Japan, China and South Korea.
angry winds swell waves
rock ship tossing bed fellows
sweet dreams dissipate
Written about last night, sailing from Kobe to Shimuzu, Japan. Today we hope to see Mt Fuji. Japanese say she is quite shy, often hiding in the clouds. Perhaps she is a distant relative of Denali?
Yes, we’re a bit bleary-eyed today!