This is my place, Provincetown’s quiet eastside coast. Let my distant auk relatives claim the boring inlands.
Each dawn I take my perch, lone tall rock on submerged jetty. Preen patiently, wait for morning sun.
Dawn tints the sky, glistens ocean path. My rock is center stage, lone gull in nature’s spotlight.
I dipfish in shallows when schools swim by. Clams succumb to my drop and crack maneuver. I pick and peck lobsters asunder. Swallow as is. Melted butter a human absurdity.
You are not alone, you know, bragging on your mythology. Gull lore says that generations ago, pilgrims landed in Provincetown.
My ancestors met them, an entire colony of gulls. Squawked so loud those humans left, sailed on to Plymouth Rock, obnoxiously omitting us from history.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sarah has provided an interesting prompt entitled Creepies and Crawlies. She introduces us to the idea of writing in the first person, as a spider, a cockroach, a butterfly, a dragonfly, or, I may be taking poetic license here, an animal of our choice. Since we are in Provincetown at the very tip of Cape Cod, I’m writing from the perspective of the gull pictured in the photo I took this morning as I watched a new day dawn in this amazing place. And, it is true. The pilgrims first landed in Provincetown but for some reason, they sailed on to Plymouth and thus the famous Plymouth Rock and the overlooked history of America’s beginning.
To read a short poem about the same photo, from the human perspective, click here.
Gull claims its spot, lone protruding rock on submerged jetty. Preens itself then waits expectantly. Sliver sun peeks out from low slung cloud, turns near darkness into luminescence. Bathed in rouging blush, water glistens in dawn’s appearance. Gull preens again, swathed in nature’s spotlight. My contented sigh, applause enough as curtain rises on a new day.
In the night of day Luna lights the path over oceans deep. Vast sea of glistening caps ever gleaming, beckoning me. Your visage when last we met, only that has kept me safely undone by storms and cloudy skies.
There is no fear, no dread, nothing vague. No questioning of time. Row on, row on, this cursed ship. My dreams, my thoughts aswirl, I shall reach you, my everlasting joy.
An Acrostic Plus, written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
I’m hosting and ask folks to either write a poem related to something that puzzles them, use the word “puzzle” in their poem . . . or extra points for writing an Acrostic Plus, a form I created: Read down the first letters in the lines of the first stanza and see what they spell; then read down the last letters of the lines in the second stanza and see what they spell. You should then have a message related to the poem!
i Provincetown summers. Tasty salty upper lip, mango tinted dawns. Blue hydrangeas, hollyhocks, honeysuckle and moss rose.
ii. Color profusion. Blarney Castle garden walk, nature’s floral art. Ireland is so much more than the luck of shamrock green.
iii. Singapore orchids, pride of National Garden. Soft delicate blooms, violet to deepest shades, azure-veined whites and more.
iv. I sense Japan’s calm, forest bathing in deep greens. Celebrate her spring strolling by cherry blossoms. Petals rain gently in breeze.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is the second day of our dVerse 10 year anniversary! Our prompt is to think about the word “garden” and see where it takes us. I took that literally. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Photos from our travels.
Seascape rhythmic swells, sonata in blue. Harmonic melody carried by balmy breeze. Percussion added as sea foamed waves lap shore. Time signature ever changing, sand grains shift and ripple too. I sit mesmerized, all this balm to my soul. Smile serenely, softly, as unconscious movement of tongue reveals salty upper lip. Apt coda to this masterpiece ~ nature’s wondrous symphony.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sarah asks us to consider “blue” in our poetry. Photo is from our time in Bermuda a number of years ago.
Sun melted snow trickles down, enlivens creek, soon to expand to winding river’s width. Once a harbinger of spring, displaced cherry blossoms float downward in breeze. I grieve the season’s loss and the loss of you, as pink petaled rain gently falls. Blossoms cling to gurgling stream, like sweet rosé lingering upon nature’s savoring lips. Kingfishers nest in branches looking down upon headstones, all ornate save one. Your simply etched name and the grandiose sculptures, all indiscriminately covered. What more wealth do you or I or any of these dead souls need than nature’s unconditional kindness? This reminder of her accepting love. This exquisitely serene pink rain.
Written for last Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Laura is hosting and reminds us that today is UN Chinese Language Day.
She asked us to choose one of four poems she provided, and with as many re-reads as we needed, to imagine what the poet painted and what impressions were conveyed…and then reinterpret the poem in our own style. We must use the title of the poem we choose and of course, credit the author. We may only use a few words from the poem itself. The poem I chose to reinterpret is below:
Winding River ~ Du Fu Each piece of flying blossom leaves spring the less, I grieve as myriad points float in the wind. I watch the last ones move before my eyes, And cannot have enough wine pass my lips. Kingfishers nest by the little hall on the river, Unicorns lie at the high tomb’s enclosure. Having studied the world, one must seek joy, For what use is the trap of passing honour?
Wade with me through windswept grasses. Stand tall against the gale gazing at nature’s palette, ocean’s waters. Myriad shades of blue blending, rippling from azure to ultramarine, royal blue to sapphire, turquoise to navy. Calcarenites protrude, their dark rough surface rocky, uneven. Each a sentinel of this island called Bermuda.
Posted for NaPoWriMo day 12. Photo taken a number of years ago in Bermuda. This scene is just a short walk from Tobacco Bay. Staying in St. George’s for five different years in the months of January and February, we often hiked out to this beautiful spot. And yes, the ocean truly looks like this! No photoshopping here.
Night sky’s scrim beams on us. Heads tipped, eyes heavenward, cold crisp air embraces. Hope gleams bright, if we believe.
Heads tipped, eyes heavenward, stars shine, diminish doubt. Hope gleams bright, if we believe, this truth shall live through pain.
Stars shine, diminish doubt hearts must open willingly. This truth shall live through pain, our love shall bloom again.
Hearts must open willingly, words must tumble free. Our love shall bloom again, night sky’s scrim beams on us.
Late to post to Peter’s prompt for Thursday’s Meet the Bar night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to write a pantoum. Pantoum: comprised of 4 line stanzas the follow this pattern: 1,2,3,4; 2,5,4,6; 5,7,6,8; 7,9,8,1 In other words: * the second stanza repeats the second and fourth lines of the first stanza, in its first and third line. * The third stanza repeats the second and fourth line of the second stanza, in its first and third line. * This pattern continues until the final stanza which repeats the second line of the stanza preceding it, as its first line; and the first line of the entire poem as its final line. Quite tricky to write in the pantoum form and still have sense to the poem, without the form “sticking out” to the reader’s sensibility!