Some Days

Some days
I’d like to be in the midst of fog.
Where mountains,
yesterday tall and imposing,
disappear today.
Where ethereal moist clouds
descend to earth,
enveloping her in softness.
Bring me serenity,
as mist hovers over land,
hides imposing granite walls
too difficult to climb.
Soften my being
with the lightest of rain  that pours not,
rather drifts in swirls round my head,
my eyes, my limbs.
Take me to that weathered landscape
where nature cajoles hatred into oblivion,
and we simply marvel at beauty
we did not recognize before.
Take me there, if not in reality,
then in dense dreams of solace,
just for a little while.
I crave escape.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, from 3 to 4 PM Boston time, we shall gather face-to-face via GoogleMeet at OLN LIVE! Link to join can be found here at 3 PM or shortly thereafter. Just click and come join us! You’re invited to read a poem of your own…or simply sit in and listen…we’re a friendly bunch and it’s quite fun!

Photo from trip a number of years ago to Alaska.

Call Me Tempestas

She was a pluviophile,
born in the monsoon times.
Overcome by strikhedonia
she fled her village,
sought solace in the woods.

A sturmfrei soul was she,
content to burrow away
on bright clear days.
Her cottage well hidden
from prying eyes.

She lived for the darkest of storms.
Aroused by lightning strikes,
thunder her love-struck mate.
They danced together in downpours,
her hair drenched, clothes clinging.

Townspeople burbled about her,
bumfuzzled by her ways.
Over time she became the Other.
Easier to will her out of existence,
they stayed inside during heavy rains.

Mish is hosting Poetics today at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. She asks us to consider memes in a unique way, providing us with a number of unusual words and their definitions. She asks us to use at least three of them within our poem. I’ve chosen the following from her list:
pluviophile (noun): a lover of rain
strikhedonia (noun): the joy of being able to say the hell with it
sturmfrei (adjective): the freedom of being alone; the ability to do what you want
burble (verb):  to speak in an excited manner
bumfuzzle (verb): to confuse or fluster


*In ancient Roman religion, Tempestas is a goddess of storms or sudden weather.
Image from Pixabay.com

A Giverny Night

Claude Monet tiptoed
through last night’s deep slumber.
Wrapped my dream in glorious blooms,
hushed pinks fading into hazy purple iris.
Calmed my senses
with myriad brushed greens.
Dewed my eyes
as undulating water lilies
nudged me into wakefulness.
I sit remembering
and smile.

Quadrille written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish asks us to include the word “wrap” or a form of the word, within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

Claude Monet images in public domain.

Blessed Rain

Black earth cracks open
begging through jagged, arid lips
water, please, drown me with drops
of life restoring rain.
Tendrils of roots seek my riches
to nourish them, to bloom with promises
threatened now in dark, dry soil without a drop to drink.

Butterflies and bees will be robbed of the balm they seek.
Blossoms will not open, colors will fade to yellow and brown.
Lavender will lose its scent, the fragrance of summer
begs for life restoring rain.
Clouds blow in providing shade but no rain falls from
decorator clouds that quickly puff away.
We watch the radar but it is like the pot that never boils.

Thunderstorms are possible they say.
Rumbles of thunder are heard in the distance,
winds pick up, branches fall in dry frustration.
Black earth cries out
water, please, drown me with drops
of life restoring, blessed rain.

Written by Lindsey Ein for OLN LIVE at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Image from Pixabay.com

Provincetown Off-Season

There’s a quiet to this place
in that transition between winter
and when-will-it-get-here spring.

Ocean ombrés from greys to taupes
bereft of sails and buoys,
lonely tides missing congregant gulls.

Lulling seeping fog muffles sound.
Low-lying dulled clouds meld into one sky
misting all that lies beneath.

And if perchance the sun should shine
clearing skies to blue,
cold damp air chills the bones still.

Lean-into gusts of wind
accompany the lone walker,
a speck of time on these vast sands
in the quiet of this place.


Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.

Today Sanaa is hosting and from 3 to 4 PM, Boston time, we will be LIVE. Poets from around the globe will meet via Google Meet and read aloud one poem of their choosing. It’s amazing to see the faces of folks and hear their voices….come join us either to read a poem of your choosing, or just to sit in and listen. HOW TO JOIN US?

Go to https://dversepoets.com at 3 PM or just a few minutes after, and the links to join us will be there…just click and come!

Photo taken this morning from our deck in Provincetown.

We’ve spent two weeks in Provincetown, at the Watermark Inn for the past twenty-two years. We’ve been here in January, July, May, and September. For some beautiful photos over the years, click here!

Perspective

Here on this observation deck
wind whips around me.
I lean into it, one hand on rail
other on my woolen hat.

I stare at ship so far below.
Placed on Lysefjorden’s glassy sea
like a miniature game board piece,
by someone’s winning hand.

Snow topped mountains
climb into cloudless sapphire sky.
Their massive girth surrounds me,
the sentinels of time

Humbled, I begin to understand,
I am the Lilliputian in their land.

Written for NAPOWRIMO, Day 11, where today, we’re asked to write about something large.
Photo from our cruise through the Norwegian Fjords in 2017.

Greening

Deep into the woods, therein lies peace.
Surrounded, enveloped in green,
lush emeralds lull my spirit
birdsong’s lilt soothes my mind.
I crave thy beauty.
I bathe in your
dappled jades,
in your
calm.


Written for NAPOWRIMO Day 9. Today we’re asked to write a nonet: first line has 9 syllables, second line has 8 syllables, third line has 7 syllables, etc.

Photo from our time in Ireland a number of years ago.

Who is the Predator?

They leave the body. Bloody pile of corpuscles dragged to Lake Manyara’s shore. Young zebra, quiet since teeth first gouged neck. Decimated.

Jowls dripping, appetite sated, his eyes bid her follow. Series of slow guttural growls signal acquiescence. Lioness follows beside. Slowly they retreat into maze of acacia trees. Unseen by approaching safari truck.

High power rifles catch glaring sun. Two men peer quietly into distance. Cheetah carcass, day’s first kill, hangs over vehicle’s hood. Not enough, they seek more.

NAPOWRIMO 2022: and so it begins with a prompt to write a prose poem that is somehow about a body, includes dialogue and at least one vivid image. Here, the dialogue is implied in the second paragraph/stanza.
Image from Pixabay.com

Shinrin-Yoku

Serenity, I walk in bliss.
Trees breeze-whisper, nothing amiss.
Soft ferns hushed, shimmer velvetly.
Moist, fresh forest scent, nature’s kiss.
Your lips come to mind. Ecstasy.
I walk in bliss. Serenity.

Shinrin-Yoku is Japanese for forest bathing: bathing in the forest atmosphere, taking in the forest through our senses.

Grace is hosting Meet-The-Bar Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. She’s asked us to write a Sparrowlet, a poetry form invented by Kathrine Sparrow. Here’s the elements of a Sparrowlet:
1. stanzaic, written in any number of sixtains (6 line stanzas) I wrote 1 sixtain.
2. syllabic: each line must be 8 syllables each (Often written in iambic tetrameter – I didn’t!)
3. Line 1 and Line 6 of the stanza is written in 2 himistichs (I had to look this word up)
4. Rhymed, rhyme scheme is BbabaA.
5. The 2 halves of Line 1 are inverted and repeated as a refrain in Line 6. The lst line MUST be the EXACT SAME as line 1, just switched around. You cannot change any of the words. (Punctuation may be changed to accommodate the meaning.)
RRA, RRB
xxxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxxa
xxxxxxxxb
xxxxxxxxa
RRB, RRA

Luckily Grace included an example of a poem written in this form within her prompt. The example for me, was much easier to follow than the definition itself! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us to try this form — or just to see how others wrote with it!

Photo from a trip to see my niece in Ohio a number of years ago.