Arboreal cobwebs.
Ethereal threads glimmer in sun,
intricate patterns
cling leaf to leaf.
Familial cobwebs.
Wisps of the past,
displayed on tables
ready for yard sale.
Charlotte’s cobwebs.
Eager youngsters
admire the spinning,
imagination’s delight.
Gray matter cobwebs,
clammy uneasiness.
Disturbed cluttered thoughts
provoked by age,
exasperated by twenty-four-seven news.
We are family,
not by blood lines but by love –
Adirondack time.
Woods beckon,
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.
Eyes sea-scape.
Islands seemingly afloat
shimmer on reflection,
my ‘scape
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!
Fair warning, dear shadow of mine,
tonight we tinker with time.
Clocks are set anew,
springing ahead one hour.
I tell you now, dear shadow of mine,
hoping that when we walk tomorrow
you shall not lag behind.
Day light savings time starts tomorrow. image from pixabay.com
Winter kisses.
Snowflakes on lashes
tip of nose
caught on tongue.
Winter fury.
White-out curtain
howling winds
sleet and ice.
Winter warmth.
Wooly mittens
snuggle downs
‘neath gramma’s quilt.
Winter leaving.
Snowman drooping
puddles form
days grow long.
Winter gone.
Crocus pop-ups
daffodils shine.
De is hosting dVerse Quadrille Monday. She asks us to include the word (or a form of the word) “kiss” in our exactly-44-word-poem (sans title). Thought I’d go lighthearted today. Seems to me we can always use some smiles. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time….come on over for some smooching! Image from Bikes And Books on Flickr.
Earth warms herself
sun gazes more deeply.
Snow crystals liquify,
trickle downward
through softening hillside,
quicken to rushing rivulets.
Winter stillness disappears.
Stream babbles, meanders,
gains strength through shifting pebbles
as plant life regenerates.
Grasses wave to river’s symphony.
Nature steeped in spring song.
Mish is hosting Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. “Steep” or a form of the word must be used within our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). Photo in pixabay.com
There is a beauty in the withering . . .
as if through sheer will power
life endures in fragility.
Color long faded
veins protruding
curling inward . . .
Death shall not win
until snow blankets the earth
to comfort its fall.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Mish is hosting and asks us to write a poem in which we find beauty in the ugly. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Day dallies before night,
languorous not angry.
No streaks of orange-red.
No temper tantrum flares.
No sinking glaring half-orb
stamping her rays.
This evening she dabbles,
pastel palette en plein aire.
Blushing, she rouges blue sky.
Sun butter yellows upon her brush,
delicately blend into rosey hues.
Bending closer, stroking more,
soft kisses touch ocean calm
till violet hues meld into scene.
She pauses quietly in her beauty,
then softly fades farewell.
Sunset photos I took two nights ago in Provincetown, at the very tip of Cape Cod. No photoshopping; no edits. Just pointed my phone and clicked. Breathtaking evening as you can see. Easy to understand why artists and poets (including Mary Oliver) flock to Provincetown. Sadly, our annual two weeks here ends on Saturday as we take the ferry back to Boston. Provincetown, you never disappoint!
Mish hosts OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Open Link Night means anyone can share one poem of their choosing.
