nature

The Burrowing Owl

lillian15 Comments

Sunrise absent
darkest damp instead.
Steady drizzle chills
steel-toe grey clouds above.

Burrowing owl stands alone
hoot-silent, alert.
Sharp eyes search
near barren treeless ground.

Hungry, ready to sprint should mole appear.
Return to earth-dug warren,
mimic rattler’s tail
should coyote rush to kill.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Quadrille Monday and De is tending the pub. She asks us to include the word “hoot” in the body our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

Photo of this burrowing owl was taken last week at the Living Coast Discovery Center in Chula Vista, CA. The burrowing owl is a small, primarily terrestrial owl. Generally about 9 inches tall, they have a short tail and long legs. They eat large insects and small rodents. They nest in burrows, often repurposing a burrow or tunnel abandoned by other animals. They are known to mimic the sounds of a rattlesnake to ward off predators such as coyotes and badgers.

Changing Scene

lillian19 Comments

Brightness fades.
Sooty clouds slowly shove aside
light-weight cumulus puffs.
Birds disappear. Eerie stillness descends.
Suddenly winds whip tall grasses.
Leaves whimper as trees bend.
Branches snap.
Forecasters definitely wrong.
Mother Nature no longer subtle.
Hints replaced by blatant bombastic warning.
Take shelter.
Now.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is Quadrille Monday and Mish asks us to use the word “hint” (or a form of the word) in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Image from Bing Create.

Forecast . . .

lillian6 Comments

. . . powerful winter weather,
bone-chilling wind.
Don coats, hats and gloves.
Outdoors . . . sleet, freezing rain.
Polar vortex beginning, remaining.
Ensure anyone in need shelter.

Image created on Bing Create.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Today, Punam has us thinking about newspapers. “You can write a newspaper blackout poem. You can use the headline from your local newspaper as a springboard and write a poem on it, or you can simply write why you love or hate reading the newspaper. Your poem should have some link with the newspaper.”

I’ve done a “blackout poem” from an article about the weather in the San Diego Union Tribune, Sunday January 19th edition. See photo below …circled words are the ones I’ve used to create the poem….using them in the order in which they appeared in the article.

Provincetown Fall Scene

lillian35 Comments

Darkness dawns,
star-dots peek through sky’s scrim.
Moonless night serene,
lulled to sleep by wave’s quiet lapping.

Raucous cormorants
rudely accompany sun’s rising.
Wings slapping, loudly thrumping
against ocean’s waves.

Herd-like,
glistening wet black bodies lift,
hover low then soar.
Migration has begun.


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De is hosting Quadrille Monday, asking us to include the word “lift” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

Video filmed several years ago from the deck of our annual rental in Provincetown, at the very tip of Cape Cod. Amazing to see….many more and much louder ruckus than you hear and see with the video!

From our Provincetown deck . . .

lillian41 Comments

Star sparkled night sky,
overhead silent scrim.
Ocean’s dark calm
lies before me,
laps shore
to sleep.

Daylight
dawns bright.
Gulls call to light,
scene transposed.
Water sparkle glistens,
sun’s fairy dust upon the waves.

Photo: glistening water from our deck in Provincetown this morning. We are in the beginning of our annual two weeks in this beautiful place. Thankful for every day.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for writers across the globe. I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics today, asking people to write a poem somehow related to the sea or the ocean. Any form; any length. Simply on the topic of the ocean/sea.

Meandering

lillian27 Comments

Listen carefully, my love
as we walk on cool stone slabs
curving through the woods.
Naturalists laid this path
so others could forest bathe,
basking in its mesmerizing calm.

Leaves rustle in cooling breeze.
Spring waters gurgle
somewhere beyond the trees.
Yesterday’s rains
still moisten fern fronds,
brightening their myriad shades of green.

White-breasted nuthatches
flit between branches.
Their low-whistled notes
accompany our slow meandering pace.
Hand in hand we walk through serenity,
our hearts, our spirits, melding into one.


Written for OLN Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, I’m hosting the pub and folks are free to post any poem of their choosing OR write a poem inspired by one of two photos I’ve provided, the above being one.

NOTE: and if you’d like to see many of our poets in action, come join us LIVE on Saturday morning, August 17th from 10 to 11 AM New York time. Click HERE, and then click on the link given for Saturday’s session. You’ll be connected to audio and video for our live session. Feel free to stop by, just to watch and listen, OR, if you’re so inclined, to read aloud any poem of your choosing. We’re a very friendly bunch. The more the merrier!

Flowers’ Delight

lillian31 Comments

Place me amongst the flowers,
in the midst of petals glorious.

In my next life I shall be a bumble bee,
the queen, of course.

I shall meander regally
from one beautiful blossom to another –

savoring nature’s sweet nectar,
buzzing to my heart’s content.


Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today De asks us to include the word “place” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

Photos taken on Saturday, just outside the high-rise building we live in, in the heart of Boston.

Stormy Night

lillian16 Comments

Clouds meld as sun disappears in night,
form thick starless low-lying scrim.
Thor, maestro of storms, hurls bolt.
Rain streams sidewise,
wind powered slant.

Lonely man on street leans in,
challenged by elements, struggles forward.

She waits impatiently.
Nine o’clock draws near,
time agreed upon, one tryst past.
He plods on,
tears mixed with rain.

Thor’s Opus intensifies.
Relentless time moves moments on.

Clocktower strikes nine times,
signifies his doom.
He stumbles, staggers, stops.
Bereft, done, hopeless.
She’s forever gone.

Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. We are free to post any poem of our choosing. Image created on Bing Create.

The Cold Wintry Thing

lillian4 Comments

The cold crept up.
It surprised us all.
Like a tiger hunting.
It caught us all.

It took us prisoner,
in its icy grasp.
It held us tight
in its frosty wrath.

From now till the shadow leaves
it will linger.
It’s beautiful and terrible.
The icy storm beast.

Yet once it’s past
we’ll wait for it again,
for we love it and hate it.
The cold wintry thing.

Written by my granddaughter, Phoebe Hallberg. She is twelve years old.
Image from Pixaby.com

Rain Walk

lillian9 Comments

Listen.
Tears fall like rain,
the soft spring rain
gentle, quiet 
cleansing the earth, the soul.

Rain begins like a tear
beading on a rose petal
trickling down to 
nourish the earth, one drop at a time.

Clouds thicken,
skies turn dark.
Rain falls harder
and the earth is saturated, muddy.

Drops become streams.
Overflowing banks. 
A flood of tears rises
to wash away our dreams.

Sun breaks through 
Two rainbows arc across the sky
Double surprise, double gift
Slowing the tears.

Summer rain smells fresh;
earth is nourished;
tears are pierced
by sunbeams.

Listen.
Rain will fall again:
On roses, on your parade, on Mondays.
Will you walk in it or just get wet?

Written by dear friend, Lindsey Ein, for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today I’m hosting and asking people to take us on a walk within their poem.

Image by Goran Horvat from Pixabay